

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


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A VOYAGE 


By W. CLARK RUSSELL, 


i;r TO 27 VaKde:Watef^ 3 i 




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A FEW DAYS AMONG 

OUR SOUTHERN BRETHREN. 


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and lead to the regret that the volume is not twice as long as it is. . . . It is 
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A Voyage to the Cape 


BY 


X 

W. CLARK RUSSELL. 


In my whole narrative I can scarcely promise you one adventure, as my 
account is rather of what I saw than what I did.— Vicar of Wakefield. 





NEW YORK: 

‘ GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 


17 TO Vandewater Street. 



W. CLARK RUSSELL^S WORKS 

CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITION) I 


NO. PRICK, 

85 A Sea Queen . 20 

109 Little Loo 20 

180 Round the Galley Fire 10 

209 John lloldsworth, Chief jNIate 10 

223 A Sailor’ .s Sweetheart 20 

592 A Strange Voyage 20 

682 In the ]Middle AVatch, Sea Stories . . , ,20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. First half 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. Second half 20 

884 A Voyage to the Cape 20 


TO 


MY WIFE. 




PREFACE. 


The following chapters are printed from the London “ Daily 
Telegraph;” but there is much more of them in this collected form 
than room could be found for in that journal. At least a third, 
therefore, of the contents of the book sees the light for the first 
time.* I made the voyage for my health, and embarked, as may be 
supposed, in no temper for literature. The utmost proposed was 
a sketch or two. But when, feeling better, I came to look into 
the inner life of the ship, there was so much to interest me that I 
could not but believe a description of the passage out and home, 
with references to the coastwise trip, might yield a little light pleas- 
ure to readers fond of the sea or who have journeyed by it. A few 
notes have been added, for the papers which form the volume were 
most of them dictated at sea, and I have therefore put at the bottom 
of the pages matter which should have been embodied in the text 
had books been within reach. 




A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


CHAPTER I. 

TO PLYMOUTH. 

There are in these days few spectacles more familiar than the 
great ocean steamship. She is seen light, towering, picturesque, 
lying alongside the wharves of the docks. Her long, vast fabric is 
witnessed cautiously steaming down the river through the multi- 
tudinous craft that obstruct the navigation; or, dwarfed indeed by 
distance, but nevertheless satisfying the eye with a sense of com- 
manding and dominating proportions, she may be viewed from the 
sea-coast at very nearly the distance of the horizon, stretching her 
black length along with the white water flashing at her stem, rows 
of scuttles brilliantly burning to the blaze of the noontide sun, 
white awnings casting violet-tinted shadows upon decks in whose 
pleasant twilight you may, through the glass, witness the gleam of 
uniform buttons, the colors of feminine apparel, the fiery sparkle 
of polished brass under a beam of sunshine that penetrates an aper- 
ture of the cool covering. The sight is familiar; hundreds and 
thousands of persons are annually making the passage of the great 
oceans in such vessels; they are noted with interest and admiration 
from many points of the English sea-coast; excellently draMm and 
well-engraved pictures of them are constantly published in the 
illustrated journals. But what of their inner life? What of the 
mysteries of the engine-room, of the discipline of the crew, of the 
cares and duties of the captain, of the provisioning of such ships, 
built to carry some hundreds of souls, who must be dealt with and 
fed, as though there were provision-markets on either beam to fill 
up the vessel’s larders from at noon every day when the captain 
makes eight bells? What of the life-saving appliances? Of the 
maneuvers under various conditions of weather according to the 
master’s judgment? 

A man takes his passage in a steamer, he pays his money and 


8 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


embarks. The journey may last eight days, three weeks, a month 
and a half. Enough for him if he be duly landed with no bitterer 
memories than such as the first days of seasickness yield; he may, 
indeed, have shown some interest in the daily runs, but as a rule 
he stops short at that; enough for him, I say, that breakfast, lunch, 
and dinner are punctuall}^ served, that the food is well cooked and 
hospitably abundant. Walking the deck, blowing tobacco clouds 
in the smoking-room, “chaffing,” telling stories, lounging in the 
saloon, flirting, grumbling, and the like, complete a routine that, 
at the expiration of the voyage, dismisses him from the ship with a 
mind empty of every point of interest deserving of attention in a 
structure illustrating one of the highest achievements of human 
skill, energy, and foresight. 

I can not but think that there must be many readers who would 
be glad to see deeper into the life of an ocean steamer than is com- 
monly permitted to them in the contributions of those who relate 
their sea-faring experiences; and, this being my impression, I pro- 
pose to give an account of a voyage I lately made to the Cape of 
Good Hope, taking the steamers I sailed in as typical of the many 
powerful iron sea-palaces now afloat. The picture, I think, will in 
the main be found true of most passenger vessels. Discipline, of 
course, varies; in the minuter details there may be differences; but 
of any one great ocean steamer, the cares of the captain, the duties 
and anxieties of the steward, the work of the engine-room, the 
victualing of the big structure, must in nearly all essentials corre- 
spond with those of the steamships of the principal great passenger 
lines. 

It was a bitterly cold December morning at Southampton. I 
stood at one of the windows of the Southwestern Hotel — a very 
spacious, comfortable, and liberally administered house — straining 
my eyes to penetrate the thickness that since four o’clock in the 
morning had been boiling down and over Southampton and her 
wide tract of watere. Now and again the phantasm of a little 
coaster, of a small steamer, or a cutter with her mainsail hoisted 
would loom out through a flaw in the smother, and vanish again 
like a reflection upon a looking-glass when you breathe upon it. 
The vessel in which I had taken my passage to the Cape was a 
three-masted, schooner-rigged steamship, with a displacement of 
eight thousand tons, and a gross burden of four thousand three 
hundred tons. Her name was the “ Tartar.”* In 1812, when the 


Belonging to the Union Steamship Company. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


9 


Yankees were fighting Great Britain they had an armed schooner 
that was used as a privateer, of over four hundred tons’ registered 
burden; she was an immense vessel then for that rig, she would 
still be a very large vessel in this age, as a fore-and-aft sailing- 
craft;* yet here was I bound to the Cape of Good Hope in a 
schooner with a gross tonnage of four thousand three hundred! 
But steam makes all the difference between then and now; and 
when Captain Travers, commander of the “ Tartar,” afterward told 
me that he had sent down his square yards and left them ashore as 
useless to the vessel, I could not help thinking when I stood look- 
ing up at the absurd display of shoulder-of-mutton sails the steamer 
expanded to the wind whenever it came a point free, that, if the 
powerful steam-shears in the Southampton Hocks had hoisted the 
iron poles out of the ship and placed them alongside her yards, she 
would have managed very well, though the nautical eye might, in- 
deed, have found something wanting. 

The misgivings I had felt at the hotel were increased when I 
boarded the tender that was to convey us bag and baggage to the 
steamer. Certainly I did not relish the notion of getting under 
weigh in a fog so thick that objects were undiscernible at a ship’s 
length, and sneaking in it through the dangerous navigation of the 
Keedles with the shadow of the early English December night al- 
ready in the air. “ Anything but a fog,” cries the sailor, “ when 
lights are obscured, objects ashore hidden, and when the most ex- 
perienced attention is almost paralyzed by the conflict of whistles 
and steam-horns and sirens in all imaginable keys!” 

A man may pass a happier time than sitting on the deck of a 
tender in bitter cold weather, in an atmosphere charged with the 
drizzle of a white fog, waiting to be carried to a ship. The quay- 
side was crowded with laborers, oflicials, policemen, and others, 
many of them in a state of excitement and shouting at the top of 
their voices; various sorts of people single or in groups; Dutchmen 
with flat faces and vacant eyes, with squab ladies, and still squab- 
ber children, returning to some of those Cape inland settlements 
with names which only a Dutchman can pronounce; Portuguese, 
with coffee colored complexions and boots with long toes upward 
bent, after the Elizabethan pattern; pale-faced gentlemen bound to 

* The “ Mammoth ” privateer schooner was 406 tons. The Yankees had two 
briRS on Lake Ontario, the “ Jones ” and the “ Jefferson,” each 530 tons. Their 
schooners ” Sylph ” and “ Ticonderoga ” were each 400 tons. These figures a i-e 
old measurement; the vessels would consequently be larger if measured by the 
present rules. 


10 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


Madeira; feebly-moving ladies making the passage of the ocean in 
quest of the sun; unhappy rheumatics dragging their limbs after 
them like ostriches with broken legs; livel}^ and gushing ladies 
wasting more tenderness upon the dogs in their arms than upon the 
mothers weeping by their side; military gentlemen with the disci- 
plined face and the capacity of rapid adaptation that springs from 
experience of travel; foreigners, unable to speak a word of English, 
awaiting the arrival of their luggage with yearning looks and a 
wistful expression of eyes not a little moving. Meanwhile, babies 
are crying loudly; children, running about, are hooking themselves 
on to the wrong people, and calling for their mothers; individuals 
in brass buttons spring on to the paddle-box and shout shoreward 
with a hundred signs in them of feeling certain that nothing can 
come of it. And all the while down the gangway-shoot, as it is 
called, I believe, rattle incessant volleys of luggage, boxes of all 
kinds and shapes, immense trunks, portmanteaus, covered with 
scores of labels, indicating that many of the people who are pro- 
ceeding to the Cape in the “ Tartar ” are not traveling for the first 
time in their lives. 

When I was writing about the Southampton Docks two or three 
years ago, I referred to the scene of the departure of one of the 
West India steamers. I little thought that I should become an 
actor on a stage before which I then sat as a spectator. I remember 
the farewells, the lingering flourishes of hats and handkerchiefs, 
the weeping postures of some who stood on the shore, and some 
who stood on the stern of the steamer, as the beautiful and majestic 
vessel slowly canted her head out for the open. There is no port 
fuller of the happy or the melancholy associations of leave-taking or 
returning than Southampton. Its traditions in this direction are writ- 
ten in the annals of the Peninsular and Oriental Company, and thty 
are still abundantly and impressively perpetuated by the numberless 
fine steamers which are week after week sailing from tliese spacious 
and important docks to all parts of the world. Memory, indeed, kindles 
an emotion almost of affection for this fine old port, and, seated on 
the deck of the tender, it was with pleasure and interest that I 
listened to what a gentleman had to tell me of the prosperity of 
these docks, and their contemplated enlargement by the addition of 
a deep and very extensive area of water, at no very distant date. 
There was no one on board that tender, I dare say, who would not 
have been heartily glad if the deep-water dock had had existence. 
It is certainly very much pleasanter to step from your hotel right 
on board the steamer you are going to sail away in than to sit on 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


11 


the deck of a tug, on a bitter, damp day, waiting for people and 
luggage to arrive to start for the vessel that lies veiled in the blank- 
ness a mile or two out upon the icy waters. 

With our decks loaded with luggage, our seats filled with passen- 
gers and their friends, who were accompanying them to the vessel, 
we got under way for the “ Tartar,” an utterly invisible object and 
startlingly dreamlike, when you thought of her as a massive iron 
fabric that was to convey you six thousand miles, and then looked 
in the direction where she should have been plain, and found noth- 
ing there but a motionless, pallid faintness. Was it possible, I 
asked, that the steamer would attempt to get away in such weather 
as this? “ Well,” was the answer, “ the vessel will weigh anchor, 
and drop down a little distance, and bring up again if the smother 
lingers; but she is bound to get under way anyhow. ” A light air 
blew, the fog thinned here and there, the loom of the shore came 
sullenly glooming up to starboard, in places the water gleamed in 
the flaws of the vapory atmosphere with the keen, blue, icelike lint 
of steel. Wreaths of the mist lifted and disclosed the hull of a ship 
at anchor, obscuring her masts, so that only ten or twenty feet of 
them, perhaps, were visible above the deck. We steamed cautious- 
ly, groping our way along, until presently we discerned three mast- 
heads with vanes upon them that made them look like spires soaring 
out of a mass of solid folds of mist, luminous in whiteness. The 
sight was an extraordinary one; between the tender and that cloud 
dominated by the three mastheads the steel-colored water lay clear; 
and within that cloud floated a structure of eight thousand tons’ 
displacement, every sound aboard of her coming faintly through the 
thickness, unless it were the notes of her deep-throated bell, which 
rang solemn and sonorous out of the white, glistening, mysterious 
envelopment. 

We had forged ahead of the “ Tartar ” in order to maneuver so as 
to get alongside of her, when a draught of air blowing lively smote 
the cloud in which the vessel lay and sent it swirling like steam. A 
beam of sunshine came down at that moment and struck the steamer 
full, kindling a hundred whites fires in her, and submitting a pict- 
ure full of soft luster and ocean beauty. The vapor stood up be- 
hind in its silvery blankness and formed a background for the ship 
to show against; and then, as though the wand of a magician had 
transformed the cloud into a majestic fabric, there stood before me 
the proportions of a great ocean steamship, with the light of the sun 
glorious on the royal coat-of arms and the gilded splendors about it 
which embellished the head of her straight stem, her rows of win- 


12 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


dows reiiccting every one of them a little luminary, with fibres of 
fire shooting oul of it. Captain and mates in uniform looked down 
upon us from the bridge or over the side. A crowd of heads for- 
ward watched our approach with interest. An immense funnel 
towered past the saloon, and the three iron masts went straight up 
into the dim and misty blue overhead “ like blasted pines, ” to use 
Tom Cringle’s simile. 

Embarkation by tender is usuall}’’ accompanied with so much 
confusion as to leave little room for impressions. There is the 
creaking and straining of steam or hydraulic gear; there is the 
lioarse bawling of sailors and others; there is the shoving and push- 
ing of people trying to form themselves into a procession to pass 
over a gangway that admits of but one or two at a time; there is 
the crowd of excited people hanging about to point out their lug- 
gage to the stewards; there is also the extreme novelty of a great 
ship’s decks, with their structures and superstructures, their deck- 
cabins, ladders, high coamings, alley- ways, and the rest of the com- 
plications, little more than a maze to the unpracticed eye. Long 
before the passengers and luggage were fairly aboard the fog had 
blown down again, and you heard in the far distance the dull, 
moaning noise of steamers endeavoring to denote their whereabouts 
with their whistles. I confess that it was not without surprise and 
very lively misgivings that, while in my cabin, I felt the vibration 
of the engines. This meant that we had started. I went into the 
alley- way alongside of the saloon and looked over the side. It was 
as thick as mud. The fog pressed close to the ship, and there was 
not a smudge in it to mark an outline of any kind. The water was 
slipping past in bubbles and small foaming eddies, but slowly in- 
deed. Suddenly the vibration ceased; and the curious sense of 
deathlike stillness that seems to follow upon the abrupt cessation of 
the movement of great engines was rudely qualified by a hideous 
screeching noise at the head of the funnel. This was the steam- 
horn. The fog seemed to have affected its pipes, for its notes at 
first were horribly gasping and asthmatic; but it cleared out pres- 
ently into a wild screech, which hummed in the ear till one’s very 
brains rattled to it, and w^hen it ceased it found an echo in a most 
melancholy screaming on the starboard quarter, where, when the 
fog slightly thinned, we perceived a steamer heading our way, very 
unpleasantly close to us, and steering apparently so as to come dead 
into our wake. 

To appreciate the anxieties, worries, and responsibilities of the 
shipmaster, it is necessary to be on board a huge floating palace like 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


13 


the “ Tartar ” when there is an impenetrable thickness all around, 
and when the ship is in a channel crowded with a thousand diffi- 
culties of navigation. The engine-room alarum was forever ring- 
ing out its hollow, metallic tones, brimful of the significance which 
the dangers of the deep communicates to the directions of the 
mariner. For a few moments the engines would be traveling with 
a comparatively rapid pulsation, then to the metallic notes of the 
communicator the throbbing languished; after a little it ceased, once 
more swiftly obedient to the striking of the bell, and then the sense 
of uncertainty that the sudden stillness inspired would be height- 
ened into a feeling of almost painful uneasiness when the steam- 
horn gave forth its hoarse, penetrating note from the summit of the 
funnel, and when the eye, glancing forward, found itself baffled 
and blinded by the fog that floated like a wall to the very stem of 
the steamer. The early night came down fast, and still found the 
‘ ‘ Tartar ” stealthily sneaking along, often pausing and sounding 
her whistle, which seemed to find reverberations in the clouded 
atmosphere, in the wailings and the meanings of fog signals ahead 
and astern. It was quite dark when the fog thinned, exposing a 
tolerably broad surface of water, when, looking over the rail, I saw 
a large German steamer passing at full speed, bound to Southamp- 
ton from New York. She swept through the darkness like a stream 
of tire — every window, porthole, and scuttle brilliant with the luster 
of the electric light or the flames of oil lamps. She made a noble 
show, certainly; her trail of smoke full of spangles, the white water 
throbbing pallid from her stem, and rushing like a line of dim snow 
along her bends into her wake. The darkness swelled her up into 
giant proportions, and she passed away astern rapidly like a phan- 
tom ship full of fire.* 

The story of this passage through the abominable thickness of 
the fog was told to me by Captain Travers, the commander of the 
ship, on our arrival at Plymouth. I repeat it for the edification of 
landsmen, for it has ever been m}'- wish since I first took pen in 
hand to describe the sea and those who navigate it for a living, to 
do justice to the masters and mates of the British merchant service 
by illustrating not so much the actual routine of their daily lives as 
the large, grave, and weighty responsibi lilies imposed upon them in 
discharge of their duties as men to whom are committed the safety 
and comfort of passengers and crews, and the secure conveyance of 


♦ It was afterwai-d reported that a smack had been cut down and her crew 
drowned bj* this steamer. 


14 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


costly fabrics and valuable merchandise. But the mariner will also, 

I trust, find somethiug to interest him in the following narrative: 

“ We left Netley,” said Captain Travers to me, “ at 3 p. m.; the 
weather was very thick, and there was a light N. E. wind blowing. 
At 3 :25 we passed the Calshot Spit Light- vessel, and the loom of 
the Isle of Wight was all that we could see in the shape of land. 
The Thorn and the Bramble buoys were scarcely visible. ‘ It is 
clearing a bit, sir,’ said the pilot; ‘ 1 can make out the guard-ship 
in Cowes Roads.’ There, to be sure, was the ‘Hector,’ showing 
up in a lumping shadow that made her look twice as big as the old 
• Duke of Wellington.’ ‘ Sail on the port bow!’ sung out the look- 
out. This was the Irish boat, a very short distance away, bound 
like ourselves to Plymouth. Just as we passed her the pilot sighted 
Lepe Middle buoy. ‘There’s Lepe, sir,’ he cried; the loom of it 
was so large that I took it for a boat. We now passed the Irish 
steamer, and it then came down so thick that it was like steaming 
through a Dutch cheese. ‘ Ease down to dead slow and keep the 
horn going, please, sir,’ said the pilot. This was done, and the 
horn being answered by the Irish boat that was now, as I judged, 
about a ship’s length astern, but out of sight. It was then 3 :45 
p. M., and the night darkening over us. ‘ I want to steer W. i S. 
magnetic,’ said the pilot: W. f S. by the standard (i. e. a Sir William 
Thomson’s and having 3*^ to 3*^ easterly deviation on westerly 
course). I gave the order, and the ship was steered by that course 
down the Solent; before long the fog lifted over the island, and at 
3:50 we proceeded half speed. It was still, however, very thick. 

‘ There’s Yarmouth Pier!’ cried the pilot, and we could just dis- 
tinguish it under the fog. A bright light right ahead was reported; 
this was Hurst Castle light. ‘ That’s a capital course, sir,’ said the 
pilot; ‘ we couldn’t have hit it better.’ As he spoke we heard the 
sound of a deep horn ahead, and all of a sudden there seemed to 
leap right out of the fog one of the large four- masted steamers of 
the North German Lloyd. She passed us close on the port side, 
and soon afterward we saw the Southampton pilot’s cutter. So we 
stopped and made his dingy fast, and proceeded again quite slow, 
the Channel pilot declining to take charge till the ship was outside 
the Needles. On sighting the high and low lights of Hurst we dis- 
charged the Southampton pilot, and at five p. m. we passed Uie 
Needles and set the course W. ^ S, The weather was now clearing, 
and a light would have been visible at a distance of about three 
miles. Thus onward past Anvil Point light, when the course was 
altered to W. i S., to close the Shamble Light- vessel, in order that 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


15 


we might see her. At 7 :48 Portland High light was abeam, distant 
six miles, arid at ten minutes past eleven we sighted the Start light, 
and passed it twenty minutes later at a distance of three miles. At 
twenty minutes past one we stopped the engines and received the 
Plymouth pilot, who took charge.” 

This reads like the plain deposition of a shipmaster. Scores of 
little narratives of this description are week after week appearing 
in the newspapers. Their meaning is always understood by the 
sailor, but the landsman must go to sea and take part in the drama 
as it is acted and related, to grasp the full meaning of all that hap- 
pens and all that is told. As I listened to Captain Travers telling 
me of this run of his from Southampton Water to Plymouth 
through a dense fog, such portions of the picture as I had been able 
to catch as an eye-witness rose up again before me; once more I 
leaned over the side and saw the dim, white water washing past into 
the wet, mysterious gloom astern. I heard again the curious voices 
of the engines, sometimes sounds as of people quarreling, then of 
people singing, then of the subdued cries of a mob, then a harsher 
wrangling as of giants, with a clashing as of leviathan fire-irons amid 
shouts of anger, with the stealthy hissing of the hydraulic steering- 
gear threading the echoes of the engine-room, and the clamor of re- 
•volving arms of steel, and the incessant shoveling of coals. Once again 
I looked around into the darkness, and saw no light nor beacon of 
any kind to indicate 6ur whereabouts. The hoarse yelling of the 
steam-horn resounded in my ears, and the startling noise found a 
wild accentuation in the seething sound of the water rushing from 
the discharge-pipe. Meanwhile the captain, pilot, and mates, 
ceaselessl}" vigilant, are conveying this great ship with her numer- 
ous passengers and her valuable freight through the intricacies of 
a difficult and perilous channel. We go to bed, leaving our lives 
in the hands of the captain and pilot, and quitting a deck wet with 
a thickness that sometimes eclipses from our sight the rays of light 
breaking from the bright lantern high up on the stay forward; and 
when we awake the sun is shining brightly over Plymouth Sound, 
on whose smooth breast our three-masted schooner lies to her 
anchor, tranquilly resting, with Blount Edgecumbe in its winter 
beauty sloping dowm to the pale blue water, while a little bark past 
the breakwater hoists her main-topgallant sail to the faint ofC-shore 
wind, and passes aw'ay with the light upon her sails gleaming in 
silver in the water under the shadow of her hull. 


16 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE* 


CHAPTER II. 

TO MADEIIiA. 

After we left Plymouth a pleasant wind came on to blow, with 
a light swell from the same quarter that promised weight later on. 
The Americans had predicted a cyclone about this time, and you 
noticed a little uneasiness among some of the passengers as they cast 
their glances aloft at the cold, greenish sky, along which some 
clouds of a hue resembling compacted smoke were journeying lei- 
surely, and when they watched the quiet heave of the long ship to 
the swell lifting in low folds to her iron side. The pace was good, 
a full thirteen, as fast as a clipper sailing-ship could run with 
a gale of wind blowing over her taffrail. Owing to the saloon be- 
ing right amidships, it was difficult to realize that you were at sea. 
The December light, sifting through spacious sky-lights and num- 
erous large windows, put a dull luster into the polished woods, the 
bright mirrors, the many silvered lamps. The sea-line rose and 
fell with rhythmic action through the windows, but not the least 
inconvenience was felt apparently by even those who, one might 
have sworn, would have succumbed to the faintest movement of the 
vessel. A saloon long enough to demand a roof of hurricane deck 
one hundred and seventy feet in length may, I think, be justly 
termed a spacious apartment. As an old Jack myself, I liked noth- 
ing so much as the breadth of this commodious structure. Out- 
side, on either hand, went “ alley- ways,” as they are called; gang- 
ways, probably, would have been the old term for them. The 
width of these alley- ways I do not know; they were on either side, 
narrowing the breadth of the saloon to the extent of their dimen- 
sions; and yet, when I looked at the beam of that saloon, it wa& 
like gazing at the main deck of a line-of-battle ship. The truth is, 
the “ Tartar ” is only eight times as long as she is broad, a theoiy 
of proportion that demands, at all events, appreciative recognition 
at the hands of a sailor. We have to thank the late Mr. Froude for 
insisting upon width as a vital factor in the seaworthiness and speed 
of ships. It is because when standing on the steamer’s bridge I 
would look down upon and along her and mark in the fabric an 
outline that seemed fit to rear royal and even sky-^il poles to the 
heavens, that I salute the ” Tartar ” as a very admirable model, and 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


17 


a further triumphant example yet of the wisdom of building a ship 
to look like a ship and to behave like a ship. 

But there is one point I am not sure about; I refer to it in no 
controversial spirit, but merely because the “ Tartar ” happens to 
be typical in this respect of other large, fine steamers in the passen- 
ger trade. All along the bottom of her she has tanks for water 
ballast. These tanks, it seems, are used merely when it is neces- 
sary to trim her. In other words, the ship, like many more of the 
vessels thus fitted, goes to sea with the tanks empty. Now, is not 
this idea of sending a ship afloat with a set of empty cylinders built 
at the bottom of her a complete subversion of all the notions con- 
cerning the art of safe and stable flotation? When you build a life- 
boat you run air-tight cylinders along her gunwales. These cyl- 
inders, if they do not prevent her from capsizing, help her to right 
swiftly, and greatly increase her buoyancy. But suppose instead 
of fixing them alongside the boat, you secured them to her keel? I 
had many an argument with my friend Captain Travers on this 
subject. He maintained that these empty ballast tanks improved 
the ship’s seaworthiness. I, on the other hand, contended that by 
leaving them empty they contributed to the rolling of the ship, and 
decreased the angle of keel at which she could recover herself. The 
point is an interesting one. I do not profess to speak with scientific 
knowledge on the subject. But common sense is at the bottom of 
all such things; and it seems to me that if you were to attach blad- 
ders to the feet of a swimmer instead of under his arms, he would 
have some difficulty in keeping his head up. 

Just before sundown, on the day of our leaving Plymouth, I w'ent 
on deck, and saw a large sailing-ship on the starboard bow. She 
was close-hauled under topgallant sails, and w^as looking w’ell up, 
crushing the surly sw^ell with her forefoot, and pitching with the 
regular action of a pendulum. We shifted our helm to pass her, 
but, though our speed was a good thirteen knots, she held her own 
nobly, and dropped astern with an obstinate clinging to our skirts 
that enabled me to have a fine view of her from different points. 

Say wiiat you will of steamers, the full-rigged sailing-ship is the 
one real beauty of the sea. I have no doubt w^e offered a handsome 
show to the eyes of the crew' of that square- rigger, with our rows of 
windows catching the reddish light that hung deep and threatening 
among the western clouds, with the swift shearing of our iron stem 
through the water, that came aft boiling to the propeller, with the 
majestic heavings of the leviathan form urged by an invisible power, 
of the existence of which even the massive leaning funnel offered 


18 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


but the barest hint in the thin blowing of smoke that went in a 
faint, brown haze over the sea. But the iron ship, with her sails 
set to a hair, her square yards, her stay-sails, like penciled shadows 
between the masts, the delicate outlines of her jibs yearning sea- 
ward to the jibbooms, surely formed of the two vessels the truer 
ocean picture. I watched with delight her long, floating launches 
into the livid hollows; her light and nimble emergence with the 
luffs of her topgallant sails trembling as though the shapely fab- 
ric’s impatience of our steady passage past her thrilled from her 
heart into those airy heights. She was beautiful when abeam of us, 
when you saw into the hollow of every sail and marked how the 
curved shadowings came and went with her lifting and falling to 
the respiration of the deep; she was beautiful when she had veered 
well upon our quarter, and with flying jibboom heading for us, 
luffed till you saw nothing but the swell of her canvas arching like 
the bosom of a maiden beyond each bolt- rope, while the foam to 
her bowing swelled to the hawse pipes; and she was still beautiful 
when she had grown toy-like on our lee quarter and had become 
little more than a white phantom, star-like in the obscuration of the 
evening and in the windy dimness, as it crept imperceptibly over 
the frothing sea. 

I stood with Captain Travers surveying this picture. The prox- 
imity of the vessel, coupled with our having had occasion to shift 
our helm, set me speculating upon collisions at sea, the most fruit 
ful in dreadful results of all the disasters that can happen upon the 
ocean. 

“ I suppose,” said I to the commander, ” that you will have had 
many close shaves in your time?” 

” Yes,” he answered, ” close shaves, as they are called, are in- 
cessantly ha])pening. Speaking on behalf of myself and of men in 
command of mail steamers like this vessel, I do not scruple to say 
that the risks we run are entirely owing to the indifference and 
carelessness of those in charge of approaching ships. I remember 
on one voyage I was on the lookout for the Stone, as we call the 
Eddystone, on a very fine night in January. A sail was reported 
on the starboard bow. Seeing no lights I, of course, imagined that 
the ship— she was a bark — was steering the same course as we. 
After a little I remarked to the officer of the watch that we were 
coming up very fast with the vessel, and, as he was still on my 
starboard bow, I determined to pass on his port side, and therefore 
starboarded the helm. Imagine my surprise when, with our helm 
to starboard, we suddenly saw his red light! I instantly put the 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


19 


helm hard a port, and telegraphed to the engine-room to ‘ standby.’ 
The result was we just shaved his yard-arms; and you will scarcely 
believe me when I tell you that before had got past my port 
beam he had taken his red light in, for I saw one of the hands car- 
rying it along the poop.* 

“ I will give you another instance,” continued the captain, “to 
illustrate the sort of attention the rule of the road receives at the 
hands of some masters. On my last voyage we had sighted the 
Eddystone, when a large steamer was reported broad on the port 
bow. We were proceeding under easy steam, that we might not 
arrive too early at Plymouth. Consequently, we and the stranger 
closed each other. His green and masthead lights were alone visi- 
ble the whole time, so it was clearly his duty to give way to me. 
Instead of this he drew closer and closer, until we could discern the 
lights in his houses and hear the roar of the water under his bow. 
He then put his helm to starboard and ran alongside of us for some 
time, when, finding that we were not going faster than he, he was 
forced to starboard still more, and, I have no doubt, eased his en- 
gines so as to admit of our going clear of him. The chief mate 
asked me if he should sound the horn. I said no. I was deter- 
mined neither to sound the horn nor alter the course. I was in the 
right; the other knew it; and I was not to be thrust out of mj" road 
to suit the convenience of the tramp. This class of vessel I have 
called the steam bully of the North Atlantic.” 

Here you have one of the worst dithculties and anxieties of the 
shipmaster. If a sailor is not acquainted with the hundred perils 
which beset his calling, I am sure he is not to be instructed in them 
by landsmen ; yet it is the sailor who, resolved to push blindly for- 
ward, taking no pains to have a bright look-out kept, and exhibit- 
ing the maddest indifference to the rules laid down for him for the 
avoidance of the dreadful danger of collision, complicates the wor- 
ries of his brother sailor, and makes a perpetual menace of any por- 
tion of the ocean in which he and his ship are encountered. 

I do not know whether the American prediction of a cyclone was 
fulfilled, but I have a lively recollection of the very heavy beam 
swell and quartering sea through which we drove past Ushant and 
down the bay. The rolling of a steamer is very different from that 
of a sailing-ship. The sails of a square-rigger prevent her from 
coming heavily to windward. With her lee lurches she will lie 
down to it, indeed, and I have been in a ship when she has very 


By this, of course, is understood that the vessel carried her side-lights aft. 


20 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


nearly rolled her lee fair-leaders under, but her weather rolls have 
been stayed by the pressure of the gale in her canvas, and I 
doubt if she ever came further to windward than to bring her 
spars plumb up and down. But if a steamer rolls heavily to 
port she is bound to roll as heavily to starboard. There is nothing 
to stop her. Her little show of canvas no more hinders her wind- 
ward reel than the exposure of a silk pocket-handkerchief would. 
She is wall-sided and bound to go to work like a see-saw. The 
“ Tartar ” was light; from the hurricane deck it was like looking 
from the rail of a line-of-battle ship, and the giant structure went 
thundering and rolling along her course like a gallied whale. It 
was a fine sight to peer over the side and see her crush the lumping 
masses of dark green water from her bows till the foam stood out 
an acre broad on either hand, covering the snapping and angry 
folds of the surface of seething snow, and raising savage billows 
which met the oncoming seas with equal spite, when they would 
rise roaring in spray; so that the ship’s wake and the water for 
many fathoms on either side of it looked as though a tempest were 
passing along there. The humors of the saloon were many, some 
of them broad and even startling. Up in the far end would sit a 
young wife, with her husband standing at the door yearning for 
her, but unable to get at her. I watched one such incident with 
interest. She cast imploring glances at him, but for a long while he 
dared not let go. At last he released his grasp, slid toward a table, 
fell under it, rolled out again, got up and tumbled into the arms of 
a waiter, whom he embraced and refused to let go of until the 
movements of the ship had pitched them both into a seat. It took 
him ten minutes to reach his wife, and in that time he had fallen 
down three times, he had had his breath struck out of him, he had 
grasped a cruet-stand and upset the contents of it in his wild Teach- 
ings after something to steady himself by, and when he had arrived 
at his wife’s side I saw him pointing to his forehead, where there 
afterw’ard appeared a black lump about the size of the egg of a bantam. 

Periodically in the rolling of ships there comes an extra heavy 
lurch. You can feel what is going to happen with your feet. 
There is a i^eculiar upward floating heave, a short pause of the 
great fabric, with her masts perpendicular, on the brow of the 
swell, a sort of hanging, as it w^ere, and then a long, clattering 
swoop down the side into the hollowq until looking over you see 
the angry and frothing plain of the deep going up to the horizon 
like a sloping wall against the sky, and the throbbing waters, rush- 
ing past at fourteen miles an hour, almost lift to the very rail itself. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


21 


I say you can feel this before it happens, just as in a sailing-ship 
you can tell, when grasping the spokes, by the peculiar “ hang ” 
of her, that she is bound to ship a sea. Every lurch of the kind on 
board the “ Tartar ” was accompanied by a smash of some sort or 
other. I would w^atch the dessert sliding up and down in the fid- 
dles; spoons, forks, and glasses slipping to and fro as regularly as 
the action of the sea, while the stewards, or waiters, as they are 
called, would stagger to the dishes, and, with outstretched fingers, 
endeavor to stop the furniture from rolling off the table. The 
noises which attended these extra heavy rolls were extraordinary; 
a mingling of the muffled cries of persons shut up in their berths 
with the sounds of breaking crockery, of rushing baggage, and of 
people fiying first to port and then coming back with irresistible 
velocity to starboard. An elderly gentleman was forced into a sort 
of gallop by one peculiarly smart lurch; he was making his way out 
of the music-saloon when the ship sloped her decks to a heavy sea; 
he started as if for a wager, took the high coaming in the door- way 
as a horse would a hedge, plumped with his forehead against one 
of the boats, then spun round and fell heavily in a sitting posture. 
After this he went about for some days with his head strapped up 
in sticking-plaster. 

And yet, amid all this rolling and groaning work in the Ba}^ of 
Biscay, I vividly remember looking down upon as pretty a scene as 
ever I witnessed. I leaned over the rail of the music-saloon; above 
me was a great, handsome, domed skylight; gazing down, I could 
see as though into a well to the main deck, where there was a table 
at which a number of children with their nurses and attendants 
were eating. It W'as a heavy day, the wind on the quarter, and a 
long, high swell; the water was blue in places and flecked with 
white, and the sun shone out brilliantly at times on the creaming 
heads of the surges and on many white gulls chasing us and flying 
ahead of us, and on the gleaming shoulder-of-mutton canvas that 
swelled its cloths from the masts, and upon the large and lustrous 
skylight under which I stood looking down upon a charming nurs- 
ery-picture. The children were variously dressed, all of them 
prettily; the sunshine fell upon sweet faces and golden curls, and 
through the straining and groaning noises that kept the great metal 
structure resonant, and through the ceaseless grinding and pulsing 
of the engines, and through the long-drawn, hoarse hissing of the 
hydraulic steering-gear, controlled in the wheel-house by a short 
tiller, you could hear the music of the children’s laughter. Those 
rows of bright and pretty little faces communicated an inexpressible 


22 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


liuman interest to as much of the picture of the ship as I command- 
ed from the spot where I stood. There is not a vessel afloat in 
which you may not find an element of deep pathos in the mere 
thought of her being the home of the many or the few who are in 
her. She is a tiny speck upon the multitudinous waters, hidden 
from the sight of man at the little distance of a handful of miles, a 
minute fragment of human skill and courage, under the vast and 
eternal dome of heaven, whose immensity the night best reveals 
with the stars she kindles from sea-line to sea-line But the pathos 
you find in her, when thinking of her amid the terrible loneliness 
of the deep as a little world of human passions, feelings, and emo- 
tions, is deepened by the presence of children, by their sports, 
their snatches of song, the wonder and delight in their restless, in- 
quisitive eyes. The children and their companions came and went 
dimly and brightly with the reeling of the ship, through the sweeping 
of the sunbeams on and off the skylight. It was more like a vision, 
indeed, than a reality— a poem in the heart of the storming steamer 
There is one condition of the ocean steamer that greatly adds to 
the discomfort of a heavy beam sea, and that is the piano. People 
may be sick, delicate ladies may be sleeping after a long, restless 
night with troublesome babies, passengers may be attempting to 
write letters to their friends at home, so as to be ready for the mail; 
but the piano is bound to be played. I can not persuade myself 
that more than ten people out of every hundred who make a voy- 
age have the least liking for the kind of music that is to be prom- 
ised or threatened by a ship’s piano. If there be one place in the 
world in which a man should consider himself safe from the petty 
harassments of shore life it is a ship. He escapes the telegram, the 
postman, the tradesman with his little account, and a hundred 
other things. Why, then, should the piano follow him? A piano 
on board ship is more vexatious and intolerable than a German 
band on shore. You can drive a German band away, but it is not 
easy or pleasant to go up to a lady who, with both feet on the ped- 
als, is hammering through a piece of complicated and wrangling 
music, and ask her to desist because you want to read or your wife 
wants to sleep.* 

* “ When you are desired to sing in company, I would advise you to refuse; 
for it is a thousand to one but that you torment us with affectation or a bad 
voice.” (Oliver Goldsmith, “ Essays ”). It is bad judgment to place the piano 
in the saloon. Everybody is then at the mercy of the egotist. The piano should 
be lodged in a part of the ship remote from the sleeping berths. They give you 
a smoking-room, why not furnish a similar structure with a piano, so that peo- 
ple who like noise may have it to themselves. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


23 


The people who excite my wonder and interest most in heavy 
weather are the stewards, or waiters, as they are now called. There 
is nothing very wonderful in forecastle Jack jumping aloft, in his 
running at headlong speed along decks sloping to an angle of forty 
degrees, in his sliding out to the end of a studding-sail boom, or in 
his hanging on with his eyelids to the jibboomof a ship that plunges 
him under water with every pitch and brings him up smiling and 
hearty to go on passing the gaskets. You look for all this in a 
sailor, and see nothing surprising in such activity But what are 
you to think of a waiter who, when the steamer is rolling so heavily 
that people are sliding off their seats, and the dinner-things delib- 
erately tumbling overboard out of the Addles, runs about with his 
hands full of smoking vegetables, or with three or four plates of 
meat upon him, or bearing a tray crowded with about half a hun- 
dred weight of tumblers and wine-glasses? Be the weather what it 
will, somehow the cook always manages to be up to time, and the 
waiters are to be seen sailing about with the same ease and nimble- 
ness that would be apparent in them on the motionless Aoor of a 
dining-hall on land. Ships’ stewards are an intelligent and obliging 
body of men, but as a community not peculiarly interesting. One 
fellow, however, who waited on the people facing me at my table, 
I would And myself watching at the start with some attention. He 
had large, protruding eyes, with the boiled and lusterless expression 
that comes from liquor, more particularly gin; he wore rings on his 
Angers and bangles on his wrists, expressed himself in correct En- 
glish and with a cultured accent. One evening somebody treated 
him to a drink or two, and this made him slightly drunk and dark- 
ly communicative. He stood before me, he Axed a bloodshot eye 
on mine, and, smiting his bosom, vaguely gave me to understand 
that a woman — with a capital “ W ” — was at the bottom of it all. 
He doubtless meant whisky, but the word woman suggested mys- 
tery and romance. He showed me his watch, with a coat-of-arms 
on the back of it, and he also showed me his rings. He then smote 
himself afresh several times, and after much indistinguishable mut- 
tering hastily withdrew to open a bottle of soda-water for a passen- 
ger. 1 afterward learned that he was the son of a gentleman of 
good position in London, and it was rumored he had an uncle who 
was a baronet. He had led a strange life, making on one occasion 
as much as Afteeu thousand pounds in a coup, but drink brought 
liim down at last, and he was glad to wait at a table at which he 
was far Atter to sit. This man recalled to my mind a story of a very 
conceited, pompous fellow, extremely wealthy, full of airs and 


24 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


boasts of his kingly antecedents and aristocratic connections, em- 
barking in a steamer and finding his only brother a waiter at the 
very table at which he had taken his seat! 

Heavy weather— it was in December, it will be remembered — 
followed us down the bay and away on into the wide waters of the 
Atlantic There were a hundred sights to delight one in the ocean 
picture of sullen morniogs, breaking into afternoons bright with 
flying sunshine and vital with the leaping of billows and the stormy 
tint of sweeping cloud shadows. The surge, in trembling massive 
bodies of roaring white, fell from the leviathan metal bows in 
thunder shocks; the swell, broken and maddened by the passage of 
our giant keel, rose tempestuously to the quarter, lifting the enor- 
mous propeller till the racing of it trembled through the length of 
the ship in a vibration that startled you with its suddenness. First 
it was two hundred and ninety-six miles a day, then three hundred 
and eighteen, then three hundred and fourteen, and so on; till, ris- 
ing one morning and going on deck, there, fair ahead, coming and 
going with the heave of the ship, I saw the dim, blue land of Ma- 
deira, and the cloud-like patch on its left. As if by magic, with 
the lifting of this azure vision above the sea-line the temperature 
sweetened into balminess, and the swell, thinning down, came with 
a fine weather slowness along to the steamer, taking from the 
brightening sky a blueness inexpressibly beautiful for its trans- 
lucency and for its suggestion of a sunny clime. 


CHAPTER III. 

HEADING SOUTH. 

Of Madeira so much has been written that little or nothing re- 
mains to be said. The green and beautiful island is a noble re- 
freshment to the sight after the tedious and tossing days of a stormy 
sea passage. The lofty mass of land breaks in a slow revelation of 
fairy beauty as it first darkens upon the view, and then brightens 
out into clear, sunny, and many-colored proportions from the faint 
shadow it submits to the eye when it is first seen. I was haunted 
as we approached with the memory of the picturesque old legend of 
the Englishman running away, four or five hundred years ago, with 
the lady of his love, who died soon after their arrival, and whose 
early death reads like the historic ^anticipation of the melancholy 
ases to which this fertile and gilded spot of land would be put by 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


25 


future travelers in search of health.* From the waters abreast of 
Funchal the island offers a spectacle of tender loveliness; the tower- 
ing peaks having nothing forbidding in their elevation; the vapor 
in soft, white masses wreathes itself like garlands of snow about the 
heads of the mountains. The atmosphere has the brilliancy of 
burnished glass, but it imparts, for all that, a singular tenderness of 
prismatic tint to what you view through it, and every color strikes 
the sight with a sort of mellowness in its purity. The white houses, 
dwarfed by distance, shine like ivory toys, and the foam winks in 
fi tful flashes at the foot of the rocks. Showers of rain were falling 
over one part of the island when we brought up, and many rain- 
bows span the numerous ravines, gorges, and scars, with here and 
there the dense foliage breaking through the irridescent arches; 
while further on, where the shadow of the squall lay deep, the land 
faded into a dim blue, looming with a clear head or two of hill 
above it; and the sea-line swept round it brimming azure and spark- 
ling to its foot. 

If you remain on board ship off Madeira, there are plenty of 
clamorous swimming-boys to take good care that repose shall form 
no element of your survey. Dingy-skinned lads, black-skinned 
lads, yellow-haired lads with coffee-colored bodies, raise a thousand 
distracting yells over the ship’s side in their solicitations to you to 
throw money for them to dive after The ship is also boarded, and 
in a manner carried, by a crew of dealers in all sorts of articles, 
most of them deformed, one-eyed, one-legged, scarlet with uncon- 
cealed sores and so forth. The gaze goes with relief from this mis- 
ery of rags and disease to the adjacent islands hanging dark and 
blue in the distance, with the sunshine feebly illuminating the more 
accentuated features. The bright azure water spreading smooth 
into boundless distance forms a perfect setting for these gems of 
land. A yacht with awning spread lay near us, and our passage of 
four days from Southampton grew dream-like when I contrasted 

* The story runs thus: In 1344, an Englishman named Macham, sailing to 
Spain with a lady whom he had carried off, was driven by a gale to Madeira. 
Macham was enchanted by the island, and conveyed his sweetheart, who was 
seriously ill, ashore. She lied. Another gale arose and drove the vessel to sea, 
leaving Macham and a few others behind. The bereaved lover, says the story, 
“ spent his time in erecting a small chapel, or mausoleum, over her grave, and 
on a stone tablet inscribed her name and a statement of the adventures which 
had doomed her to be laid thus far away, not only from the ashes of her fathers, 
but from all else of human kind.” The tale may be found in Hakluyt; Drayton 
has versified it in his “ Polyolbion,” and Campbell gives it in his “ Lives of the 
Admirals.” 


26 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


that wliite covering and tlie shadow it cast upon the decks of the 
yacht with the bitter winds and drenching fogs we had left behind 
us in the English Channel, and the cold air, the high swell, and the 
broken seas of Finisterre and St Vincent. 

We got under way in the afternoon, with our company of passen- 
gers somewhat thinned in number. It was now raining heavily 
over parts of Madeira, and the atmosphere was rendered uncom- 
fortable by the tepid humidity of it= It seemed extraordinary that 
so many people should, in defiance of the strong misgivings which 
have been expressed as to the health- yielding qualities of this cli- 
mate, determine to land there, instead of proceeding to the mag- 
nificent skies and the wide and varied climatic fields which are 
offered by the colonies of South Africa. Madeira is unquestionably 
a beautiful island, but it seems to me one of the saddest spots in the 
world. Its annals are full of death, and hundreds are lured to it 
only to be bitterly cheated in their dearest hopes. Besides, the 
passage to the island is the most disagreeable part of the voyage to 
the Cape of Good Hope. You have the swells of the Bay of Biscay, 
and plentiful risks of the rude, tempestuous weather of the North 
Atlantic. But Madeira once passed, you straightway enter upon 
sunny seas, and steam under blue and golden skies; and till Table 
Bay is entered it is reckoned a novel experience if one meets with 
more than a light head sea in the tail of the Southeast Trades. 

I stood leaning over the rail, watching the features of the lovely 
land growing faint at the extremity of our gleaming wake; and 
while thinking over some of the white-faced and trembling people 
whom we had brought with us and whom I had noticed feebly de- 
scending the gangway ladder to enter the shore boats, it came into 
my head to ask the ship’s doctor some questions touching the bene- 
fit to be derived by an invalid from a journey to the Cape. He was 
a gentleman of experience, had made the voyage many times, had 
had many kinds of patients under his charge, and was well quali- 
fied therefore to give an opinion. After speaking of some of the 
people who had left us at Madeira, I inquired what maladies he 
considered a voyage to the Cape good for. 

He answered, ‘ ‘ I should say that every chronic disease, no 
matter of what character, is sure of alleviation, if not of being com- 
pletely cured, by a fine weather trip like this. The change of 
scene, the mild, pure, refreshing breezes, the rest, the absolute free- 
dom from all worry and anxiety, are strong adjuncts to the appro- 
priate drugs or treatment in each case Three sorts of patients are 
chiefly benefited; I mean the consumptive, the rheumatic, and those 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


27 


who are suffering from what is termed nervous exhaustion, the 
most distressing perhaps'of all human complaints, because of the 
physical suffering involving mental distress. In the case of con- 
sumption, the sweet, exhilarating air and the warm weather almost 
invariably work wonders; but always providing that the voyage be 
undertaken in time. Unhappily, as we medical men know, it is 
too commonly the practice of patients to postpone their departure 
until the disease has got a strong hold of them, and the result is 
that we are constantly seeing patients helped on board at Southamp- 
ton in the last stage of consumption, only to die of exhaustion on 
entering the tropics through inability to withstand the heat and the 
consequent profuse perspirations. If,” he continued, ” patients of 
this sort had determined to trust themselves to our tender mercies 
at the beginning of their illness, the probability is that the round 
voyage, with perhaps a stay of a month or two at the Cape, would 
have perfectly recovered them.” 

“ And rheumatism?” said I. 

“ Well,” he replied, “ for chronic muscular rheumatism — I will 
not speak of arthritis*— the warm and equitable climate we have in 
passing through the tropics possesses marvelous curative powers. I 
can offer myself as an instance. I was almost paralyzed by mus- 
cular rheumatism; yet, after my first voyage the malady left me, 
and I have never had an hour’s suffering since from it. As to 
nervous exhaustion, I can only say that those whose minds have 
been almost unhinged by business troubles, by grief, or by menial 
shock of any kind, find in the peaceful life of a steamer, with the 
change of scene and the round of innocent amusements you get on 
board ship, the only effectual kind of treatment it is possible tc 
prescribe. Again, to people recovering from almost any of the 
acute diseases, a ship offers a nearly perfect convalescent home.” 

‘‘Can you,” said I, “tell me of any cures which have come 
under your notice?” 

“ It is difficult to give instances,” he answered; “ I will tell you 
why. You have your patient under observation for eighteen or 
twenty days only, because people, as a rule, seldom return in the 
same ship; you lose sight of them, and Iheir further progress can 
only be a matter of conjecture. But of the comparatively small 
number of persons who make the round trip I could tell you of 

* For chronic rheumatoid arthritis, as it is called, a residence in South Africa ' 
will prove of little or no good: though even of this obstinate disorder the voy- 
age, by helping the general health, diminishes the sufferings. Other forms of 
rheumatism are unquestionably benefited or cured by the trip. 


28 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


several recoveries. One remarkable case was that of a middle-aged 
gentleman, whose nervous system had been cruelly prostrated by 
domestic trouble When he came on board he was the merest 
wreck of a man, and when he landed in England he was, both 
mentally and physically, as sound as ever he had been in the health- 
iest period of his life, Another case was that of a youth suffering 
from incipient phthisis, which was certified by one of the leading 
London consultants. The warmth and sea-breezes so thoroughly 
restored him that on visiting his medical adviser on his return, not 
the least trace of the malady was discoverable ” 

“ You think,” I said, ” a residence at the Cape for consumptive 
people preferable to a residence at Madeira?” 

” Assuredly. I have visited the coast towns of the colony (>nly, 
and can not therefore speak from personal experience of the climatic 
conditions of the districts up country; but the testimonies that have 
reached me place beyond all dispute the certainty of cures in the 
Cape Colonies, and of corresponding failures not only at IMadeiia, 
but at the Mediterranean and other popular South European re- 
sorts. Bloemfontein, in the Orange Free States, has a high local 
reputation for its clini4tic cures of consumption. I say local, be- 
cause that part of the world has yet to be discovered by or be made 
known to our Northern sufferers. Some parts of the Transvaal, 
too, and of the northern portion of Natal, at the foot of the Drak- 
ensberg Mountains, have also a climate that seems specially de 
signed for this class of patients. One is constantly meeting at the 
Cape, or while traveling to and fro coastwise, with colonists in 
excellent health,, who assure one that, when they first went out to 
South Africa, they arrived dying men. Such power does a dry 
and genial climate possess in arresting the destructive tubercular 
processes’ But to put the thing fairl}^ those who linger at home 
and postpone their departure to a time when help is hopeless, run 
down-hill at a fearful pace in the heat of the Cape summer. We 
have, as you know, a lady on board who is dreadfully ill with con- 
sumption, I very much fear that the heat we must expect on our 
arrival at South Africa will prove more than her small remaining 
stock of strength can withstand. Should she, however, happily 
manage to pull through it, there is every reason to believe that, 
during the ensuing winter, she will so improve as to be practically 
out of danger by the time the next summer comes round.” 

” I notice that there is a good deal of drinking on board; what is 
your experience in this direction?” 

” Well, I must confess that a considerable amount of ‘ nipping ’ 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


29 


goes, on, as a rule. It is not often that you see a passenger drunk; 
in truth, intoxication is of rare occurrence, and a vice which the 
rules of the ship render difficult of practice; but people get into the 
habit of having ‘ cock-tails ’ before and after breakfast, drinks at 
eleven, sherry an d-bitters before lunch, and so on, not to mention 
many incidental adjournments to the bar, wdien games of bull or 
chess or poker, and the like, are won or lost.” 

“ This ‘ nipping,’ as you term it, can hardly serve the end of per- 
sons in search of health?” 

“Hardly, indeedt but I am quite convinced that passengers do 
themselves more injury by over-eating than by over-drinking. 
Nine out of ten persons devour out-and-away more food on board 
ship than they do on shore. Of course they should eat very much 
less when you consider the temperature and the little exercise they 
take. It is anything but an agreeable sight at breakfast, say, on a 
hot morning in the tropics, to see people plodding steadily through 
the bill of fare, literally surfeiting themselves, beginning, perhaps, 
with a plate of porridge, and then working away at fish, a mutton 
chop, a grilled bone, Irish stew, sausages, bacon and eggs, ham and 
tongue, and winding-up with a top layer of, bread-and-butter and 
marmalade I assure you I once, at my table, watched a lady make 
just such a breakfast as I have given you the details of The whole 
bill of fare, as it stands morning after morning, accompanied by 
powerful flushings of tea or coffee, is by no means an unusual 
breakfast at sea.* As a result of all this eating and drinking, a 
passenger finds himself rather unwell; he doses himself or comes to 
me complaining of headache and of feeling heavy and dull Of 
course he attributes it all ‘ to the dreadful heat.’ If passengers 
would control their appetites and limit themselves to one meal of 
meatTa day, taking care to eat plenty of fruit and fresh vegetables. 


* The ditYiculty is to know what to eat— particularly at breakfast— on board 
ship if you are dyspeptic. Elsewhere I have given samples of the bills of fare; 
all the dishes excellent for people with digestive powers, but very much other- 
wise if those functions be feeble. The food to be avoided, according to eminent 
medical judgment, is— salt meat, salt fish, porridge, cheese, pastry, dried fruit, 
sugar, jam, raw vegetables, coffee, spirits, malt liquors, pickles, ices, curries, and 
pepper, Most of these things are what are offered to you by the stew-ards to choose 
from On the other hand, w’hat you may eat are— bread, toast, milk, eggs, 
poultry, fresh meat once cooked, suet pudding, rice and other farinaceous pud- 
dings, tea, cocoa, fresh fish, and potatoes; the more substantial items of which 
you don’t get, such as suet pudding, fresh fish, rice pudding, etc., while the 
eggs are kept fresh only by ice, and the yield of the cow has to be helped out 
with preserved milk. 


30 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


they would have very few disorders indeed to ascribe to the heat, 
which in fact is never very great, as you may easily ascertain by 
watching the thermometer.” 

There is much good sense, I think, in all this; and persons pro- 
posing to make a voyage, whether for health, pleasure, or business, 
may thank me for the suggestions indicated in this brief chat with 
the doctor of the ” Tartar.” I hope in due course to deal with the 
victualing of ocean steamers, and from the bills of fare for break- 
fast, lunch, and dinner which I shall probably give as illustrative 
of the quality of living on board ship, readers will judge that, when 
passengers are charged with over eating, the accusation implies a 
very large volume of food for the indulgence of their voracity. 
Out of mere curiosity I asked the steward what he reckoned as the 
average expenditure per male passenger for drihlts. He answered 
that he would take each passenger as spending from three to four 
pounds a week, but in many cases the figure rose to as high as nine 
or ten pounds per week. This is at the rate of from two hundred to 
five hundred a year for liquor; and when you consider that spirits 
and wines are no dearer on board than they are on shore — indeed, 
in some ships they are cheaper — ^you may judge that a man whcT^ 
spends, say five pounds a week on drink, must contrive to stow 
away a pretty large liquid cargo in the course of the seven days. 

Madeira seems to define the boundary-line between the capricious 
weather north of it and the delightful climates and smooth seas 
south to as far as the Cape of Good Hope. I marked the change 
when, the island being a faint bluish smudge on the horizon, I 
climbed to the bridge of the ‘ ‘ Tartar ” and gazed around. The 
long fabric of the great vessel sped below me through the smooth, 
dark blue waters. Our speed was a fair fourteen knots, there was 
nothing to stop us, and the engines were storming in a regulated 
thunder of sound in the metal caverns beneath, whirling with re- 
sistless velocity the giant propeller with its diameter of nineteen feet 
and its twenty-seven foot pitch. I gazed along the length of three 
hundred and seventy-seven feet, and upon a breadth of over forty- 
seven feet. The shapely configuration of the thrashing and thrust- 
ing structure was thrown out in brilliantly clear black lines by the 
white waters seething past on either hand like the foaming race at 
the foot of a mountain caratact. Brass and glass flashed to the 
steady pouring sunshine. Looking right aft I marked the elegant 
curve of the elliptical stern, showing sharp upon the tremulous, 
snow-like surface that went flashing from under the counter into 
the tender, distant blueness and faintness. There was a satin sheen 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


31 


upon the sea. Only the faintest fold of swell came to put a motion 
as of soft breathing into the powerful steamer. The sun was west- 
ering fast; Ia3’’er8 of pearl-like clouds caught a golden tinge from 
the slowly crimsoning luminary upon their delicate brows. In the 
distance, that seemed measureless in the amazing transparency" of 
the sweet and sunlit atmosphere, you saw the moonlike gleaming of 
a sail; otherwise the circle of the sea went round unbroken to the 
heavens, a glorious sapphire cincture east and south and north, but 
gathering fast in the west a reddish splendor from the approach of 
the sun to its liquid verge, and from the ruddy glorifying of the sky 
down which the orb was floating. The change from the Biscayan 
latitudes was strongly marked now, and felt by me more keenly 
even than when Madeira lay steady and rich before me, half in 
weeping shadow and half in sunshine, with the white houses to 
give an intertropical aspect to it, and its nude, dark-skinned boys, 
laughing, diving, and shouting out their language of the sun along- 
side. 

I remember when the evening came down dark, and after I had 
stood watching the dull, cloudy light of phosphorus in the roaring 
surge that coiled over and broke into milk from the vessel’s bow, 
seating myself abaft the ladies’ saloon for the‘shelter of it from the 
W"ind which the steamer’s progress through the water was making 
to blow at the velocity of nearly half a gale. An engine room 
hatchway was directly in front of me, protected by gratings, and, 
peering down, I could see through another grating into the black 
depths, a distance of forty feet beneath. There were scarlet lights 
at the bottom; the glow of one or more of the eighteen furnaces. 
You could see phantom figures moving, catching, now and again as 
they passed from darkness into darkness, a gleam from the fires 
that seemed to give them an outline of flame. The effect was ex- 
traordinary. Often voices broke into song down in those mysterious, 
resonant depths. The shoveling of coal was incessant. By listen- 
ing a little you found words distinctly articulated by the engines. 
You fitted the rhythmic, metallic pulsations with syllables which 
became a sentence that was fast repeated over and over and over 
again. It seemed to me as though there were some mighty giant 
working below there in the fire-touched darkness you saw through 
the gratings; he breathed harshly and heavily, often with a fierce 
hissing through his clinched teeth, as though the burden of his 
tremendous labor grew at moments too heavy for him, and he ex- 
pended his' impatience in a wild and bitter sigh. There were a hun- 
dred sounds to suggest the presence below of some powerful human 


32 


A TOY AGE TO THE CAPE. 


spirit, rather than the mechanical, soulless action of beams of metal 
and lengths of massive steel revolved by steam. It was the heavy 
panting that made you think of the hidden giant. 

Seated on deck with the stars shining in glory, the refreshing 
• noises of foaming waters alongside, and the wind sweeping past 
either hand of the structure that sheltered me, raising tempestuous 
melodies as it flew, I listened to the sounds, human and mechanical, 
which rose through that engine-room grating as I would to expres 
sions of a life utterly distinct from and wholly separated from our 
own. The gushes of air coming up through the hatch were unen* 
durably hot. A whole j^rest of windsails swinging with distended 
arms in the gloom, like the sheeted figures of hanged men, carried 
the cool wind into the region of fire beneath; but the heat, as sug- 
gested by the fervid puffings rising from the engine-room, made one 
wonder how men could be found capable of discharging the labori- 
ous duties of firemen and trimmers, in an atmosphere of which the 
merest whiff snatched from the deck oppressed and enervated the 
wh( le system. 

The stokers and firemen have the hardest limes of it on board ship 
in these days, I think. Jack inhabits a fine forecastle compared to 
what he used to sling his hammock in in the old times of slush 
lamps, blackened beams, dripping carlines, and rats as big as cats. 
Ills food, if it be not better, is surely not worse than it was, any- 
how. There is nothing particular to be done aloft, at least in such 
three-masted schooners as the “ Tartar.” There is no deep-sea 
lead to heave,* and the duties of the sailor are restricted to clean- 
ing, scrubbing, and sv^abbing. Besides all this he is in the fresh 
air when his watch comes round. But when I thought of the lot of 
the firemen, and of those whose day-and-night work lies in the 
engine-room; when I contrasted the mild, delightful breezes I was 
breathing with that stagnant, feverish atmosphere where the fire- 
god was doing his work, and when I listened to the incessant sounds 
of shoveling and the perpetual metallic roaring of the fabric of 
cylinders, piston-rods, crank-shafts, connecting-rods, and the like, 
revolving a propeller weighing eleven tons, I confess it was with 
amazement that I listened to the cheery and hearty singing of the 
poor fellows at their toil. 

For it seemed to me that if I had to work in an engine-room I 
should have but small heart to pipe out even the most lugubrious 
ditty I am acquainted with. 


* At all events, not on board the steamers I have traveled in. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


33 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE master’s responsibilities. 

I HAVE often thought that if the duties, responsibilities, and 
’anxieties of the merchant captain and mates were better understood 
by landsmen, we should find more dignity attaching to the red en- 
sign than is commonly conceded to that piece of meteor bunting. 
The captain of a man-of-war fills a post of distinction and honor; 
yet consider for a little what is the title of the commander of a great 
ocean mail steamer to the respect and admiration of the country 
under whose commercial flag he sails. If his fabric, as she lies 
afloat, is not worth, ship for ship — in money, I mean, of course— as 
much as an ironclad; if one vessel, for instance, costs a quarter of a 
million, and the other, say one hundred thousand pounds; yet it is 
certain that the merchantman has not to make many voyages before 
the actual value committed to the care of her master in cargo, 
specie, and in the ship herself, will outgrow the actual cost and the 
existing intrinsic worth of the man-of war, with her twelve- inch 
plates, costly armaments, and the rest of her fittings. 

But there is another feature of the life of the master of an ocean 
steamer that has been brought very emphatically home to me by 
this voyage. I mean the ceaseless strain upon his vigilance. He is 
constantly afloat; and when afloat his responsibililies are endless. 
In a chapter in Dana’s “ Two Years Before the Mast,” that admir- 
able author gives, if I recollect aright, some account of the duties 
of a skipper of a ship in his day.* That duty seemed chiefly to 
consist in coming and going when he liked, of walking the weather 
side of the quarter-deck, of leaving everything to the discretion of 
the officer of the watch, of making eight bells at noon, and of occa- 
sionally taking a star. Those were jogging times. After a voyage 
of four months the passengers, grateful to quit their floating prison, 
would subscribe and present the skipper with a piece of plate — most 
often a silver claret-jug. One man I sailed under had had eight 

* Now fifty years ago. On referring to the book I find the passage runs thus: 
“ The captain, in the first place, is lord paramount. He stands no watches, 
comes and goes when he pleases, and is accountable to no one, and must be' 
obeyed in everything, without a question, even from his chief oflicer. He has 
the power to turn his officers off duty, and even to break them and make them 
do duty as sailors in the forecastle,” etc. A fuller account of the master’s duties 
ts given in the same author’s excellent ” Seaman’s Manual.” 

2 


34 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


such jugs given him, and half of them regularly figured every day 
on the dinner-table as a hint for more. But now! here and there a 
captain will, indeed, show you a telescope, a binocular glass, a ring, 
or some such present, commonly the gift of an individual, very 
rarely a presentation from the passengers as a body. Voyages are 
probably nowadays too short for gratitude. Existence is so agree- 
able on board that every one is not very much obliged when it ^ 
comes to an end. The captain thrashes his great structure through 
the deep, he must be punctual, and more than punctual if possible; 
his obligations and responsibilities have increased a hundred-fold, 
while I am bound to say public recognition of the dignity of his 
position, the enormous powers intrusted to him, the admirable fidel- 
ity with which he discharges his duties, is so small as scarcely to be 
appreciable. 

It was Christmas-eve. There had been much revelry in the 
saloon; but the sound of it had ceased, the lamps had been extin- 
guished, and the great steamer was rushing in darkness through 
the night. It was pitch dark; with relief it was that you brought 
your eye away from the dense gloom ahead and around, to the dim 
whiteness of the waters sweeping past alongside, beautified with 
fiery stars of the sea-glow. Some cheery spirits, determined to see 
Christmas-eve out, were assembled on the hurricane deck, where 
in company they chanted choruses, which floated low and strange 
on the wind to the midnight music of the breeze among the shrouds 
and the distant thunderous sound of waters at the stem. Suddenly 
seven bells were struck — half past eleven. The notes rang oat 
clear and strong, and while the last chime vibrated on the ear you 
heard coming cheerily out of the blackness of the forecastle head, 
the hoarse cry of “ All’s well!” 

All’s well! My thoughts went to the captain and his mates with 
that cry. The singers on the hurricane deck had stayed their voices 
a moment to listen to the bell; they broke out afresh when that 
hearty cry from the darkness forward drove past their ears. There 
were women and children sleeping below — many of them; the re- 
membrance of our innocent festivities in the saloon gave a sense of 
abounding life to the ship which the ceaseless working of the en- 
gines was sending storming through the pathless, liquid ebony that 
seemed to vanish into the murkiness of the heavens a few fathoms 
past the yeasty line reeling out from the bows. All’s well! I saw 
the dim shape of the captain on the bridge, with the figure of the 
mate on duty pacing to and fro, to and fro, athwartships. There 
v as little to be feared from the neighborhood of ships, less from the 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


35 


half-sunken obstructions of derelicts, nothing from the adjacency 
of land; and yet that cry of “ All’s well,” coupled with the sounds 
of songs on the hurricane deck and with the memories of our glees 
and choruses in the saloon, and with the thought of the many pas- 
sengers under my feet taking their rest, full of faith in the vigilance 
of the captain, and in the strength and safety of the fabric that was 
speeding them through the darkness, gave a profound significance 
to the heavy midnight gloom, and to the restless vigilance of the 
master, breaking from the merriment of the hour to search the night, 
to watch the ship, and to accentuate by his dutifulness that happy 
cry of “ All’s well!” 

Now, in dealing with that portion of the routine on board a mail 
steamer that specially involves the responsibilities and duties of her 
commander, I should premise that if t speak of the ‘‘ Tartar ” and 
of her captain, it is merely because I happened to be a passenger on 
board that ship, and necessarily, therefore, associated with the 
genial, courteous, and excellent sailor in charge of her. But I wish 
it to be understood that, in naming the ” Tartar ” and her com- 
mander, I desire to instance them as types only of a calling I was 
once connected with, which I heartily love, and which it is my am- 
bition to do honor to in every sentence in which 1 deal with it in 
my writings. There are scores, as we all know, of powerful and 
sumptuously furnished mail and passenger ocean steamers afloat, 
and there is no captain of them whose large duties and grave 
anxieties do not correspond with those of his brother commanders. 
Hence, though I name a particular vessel and a particular man, I 
beg that the example I am about to give may be accepted as illus- 
trative of the fabrics and duties to be found in the higher walks of 
the mercantile marine. 

I will not dwell at much length upon my three-masted schooner- 
steamer, the ” Tartar.” I have before me the particulars of her as 
sent by her builders, from which I will extract in a few words 
enough to indicate the extent and capacity of the vessel, of which 
her master has sole charge. She was built in Glasgow in 1883. 
Her length and breadth I have already given.* Her depth is slight- 
ly over thirty feet. In gross tons her burden is a trifle above four 

* The late W. S. Lindsay claims to have been the first to break through the 
old prejudice respecting length and beam. “ The impression,” he says, “ had 
prevailed for centuries that a long ship must be weak, and a narrow one dan- 
gerous from her liability to capsize.” In 1853 he built an iron sailing-ship which 
in length measured close upon seven times the width of beam Pidor to this 
vessels of twenty-five feet beam seldom exceeded one hundred feet in length. 


3G 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


thousand three hundred and thirty-nine. She is on the admiralty 
list, and I made special inquiries as to her build and the like, as I 
was anxious to know what sort of vessel the admiralty thought good 
enough to employ as a cruiser, to arm with guns, and to start in 
quest of enemy’s merchantmen, or for convoying. It is not so very 
long ago that a ship, chartered for the conveyance of troops, when 
dry-docked after having brought home a large number of soldiers, 
was found to have her rudder post, that had been originally cast 
too short, lengthened with a piece of timber painted so as to imitate 
iron. This craft, no doubt, had been termed in descriptions of her, 
“a noble and stately vessel.” Applausive adjectives are cheap. 
To produce nobility and stateliness you must build honestly. Your 
angle irons should be good, your plates formed of metal consider- 
ably less brittle than glass, and in no sense “ short,” as the term 
is. There should be no blind rivet holes, the ” drift ” should be 
rendered unnecessary; above all, your stern-posts should be cast the 
proper length. I do not know that I should call the ” Tartar ” 
either a noble or a stately vessel, but I am confident she is a stanch- 
ly built one, and, as a passenger-ship, one of the best arranged and 
most commodious afioat. Her deck structures give her an encum- 
bered look amidships, and 1 am not sure that there has been any 
gain in convenience by the erection of the ladies’ saloon, a beautiful 
cabin, indeed, but in my humble judgment a piece of unnecessary 
top hamper. Otherwise she is a very perfect ship. Many a time 
when she has been pitching — perhaps to the extent of four to four 
and a half degrees — I have sat in her saloon in a blaze of light from 
her silver lamps and the reflection of her polished mirrors, and have 
scarcely been conscious of any movement. She is crowded with 
water-tight compartments in case of fire or collision; and, remem- 
bering the instance of the ” City of Brussels,” that foundered by 
being struck in a division of two compartments, whereby an im- 
mense opening was offered for the water to rush into,* I inquired 

* A more recent though less fateful instance is the sinking of the Cunard 
steamer “ Oregon,” through collision with a schooner. 


and the same proportions held in larger ships. Lindsay says that “ such a 
monstrous deviation from established rules created considerable discussion, 
mingled with many gloomy forebodings as to the result.” The forebodings were 
not unwarranted, as regards the future. A ship eleven times longer than she is 
broad might well be accepted as a dismal issue of the adventurous example of 
the old ship-owner Yet I do not think the time far distant when we shall re- 
turn, as much for speed as for safety, to dimensions having some correspond- 
ence with those, at all events, of Lindsay’s day. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


37 


of the builders about the stability of the “Tartar/’ and obtained 
the following information, which I think* in the highest degree im- 
portant to the well-being and security of passengers, as indicating 
the surplus of safety it is possible for the shipwrights of a well- 
const ructed fabric to provide in the event of that worst of all sea- 
disasters — collision : 

“ In dealing,” I was told, “ with this point of stability, we have 
taken the worst case; and, assuming that Nos. 3 and 4 holds (which 
are the largest of all) be damaged and filled with water when fioat- 
ing at 26 feet 2 inches mean before being damaged, then the surplus 
buoyancy would be 17.7 per cent, of the total buoyancy of the ves- 
sel, or, allowing for forecastle and erections, would be 18.5 per cent, 
surplus buoyancy. Of course, if the cargo in that compartment be 
lighter than water, then the buoyancy due to it would have to be 
added to the above.” 

The draught quoted of 26 feet 2 inches represents the ship, of 
course, as loaded down to her disk, leaving a free board of 8 feet 
5 inches It is, perhaps, unnecessary to state that these ships are 
never freighted down to their load mark, and hence the surplus 
buoyanc}^ as stated by the builders, is far greater than the figures 
named. Here, then, we arrive at a high theory of safety in respect 
of collision in shipbuilding. 

And now let us see what is expected of the commander of an 
ocean mail steamer. First of all — but of course this does not head 
the list of his duties — he must be regarded as the mail agent for the 
government, and he is held responsible for the proper delivery of 
the mails received on board. In fact, he does the work that was 
formerly intrusted to a post- captain or commander in the navy.. 

“ Before leaving Southampton,” said Captain Travers to me, “ a 
post-office journal, a mail certificate form, on which you have to 
state your arrival and departure at each port, your length of passage 
and the time allowed, and a list of admiralty packages are handed 
to you, and on arrival at Plymouth or Cape Town these documents, 
properly filled up, are handed in to the company’s representatives, 
who forward them to the postmaster-general, and if found correct, 
the subsidy and pt^mium for speed are paid In all other matters 
the responsibilities are pretty much the same as in the ordinary 
sailing-ship. The captain is responsible for the vessel being well 
and properly found in everything. At the termination of a voyage 
a ‘ Defect List ’ and an indent for stores for the ensuing voyage are 
made out by the chief officer, chief engineer, and chief steward, 
and submitted to him for approval. Abroad, all accounts for sea- 


38 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


men discharged and for overtime and coal mbney earned by the 
crew must be signed for by the commander. The crew get sixpence 
an hour overtime working cargo after sixp. m. to six a. m., and four- 
pence per ton is divided among the crew for shifting coals out of 
reserves into bunkers. The captain is furnished with a voyage re- 
port, which he has to till up and hand in at the termination of his 
voyage. This is really a precise account of everything that is 
shipped and unshipped during the voyage, the amount of coal 
burned between each port, the stoppages, the average speed made; 
it also includes a statement that the instructions received have been 
strictly carried out, more especially in matters relating to cargo, 
and an assurance that the second and third class passengers have 
been visited dail3^ Besides this, there is an abstract log to write up 
every day, showing the ship’s position, run, wind, weather, sea, 
pressure of steam, revolutions, and coal consumed. This form is 
sent in at the end of each passage, and it also states the average 
speed, coal consumed per mile, per hour, and per hour per indicated 
horse-power. There is also an abstract log for the coast voyage. 
Then we have a blue form, a kind of mail certificate, with the stop- 
pages at each port stated. We have also to hand in a confidential 
report of every officer of the ship, including engineers, surgeon, 
carpenter, boatswain, and chief steward. I make it a rule always 
to fill in all the forms m5’^self; and by taking them in hand as we 
come to each port, 1 really have no trouble with them and do not 
notice the work. ” 

The captain has also to announce his arrival at each port by let- 
ter, stating time, consumption of fuel, proposed departure, prospect 
of freight, and the like. 

“ I suppose,” said I, “ when you are at home you have plenty of 
liberty?” 

” AYell,” he answered, “ I have to dock, examine, and then un- 
dock the ship. This is done as soon as possible after the cargo is 
discharged every voyage. I am seldom or never away from my 
vessel during the time she is in port, and abroad I never sleep out of 
the ship.” • 

“You tell me you thoroughly overhaul the ship in dry dock after 
every voyage?” 

” Yes.” 

” Is it a common custom?” 

” I can not'speak for others; it is a rule with us.” 

‘A very good rule,” I exclaimed, ” as excellent a method of 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


39 


Eafe-guardiug passengers as a company could devise. Tell me, 
now, of any other duties you may have. ’ ’ 

“ I will give the routine. Before leaving Southampton, and after 
having signed my customs clearance, I usually ask to see the letter 
of instructions for the voyage. This letter tells the captain what 
ports he is to call at, what coal he is to take in, what his coal con- 
sumption is to be, and it gives him his dates of arrivals and depart- 
ures from the different ports. The mails arrive with the passen- 
gers, and the ship then starts on her voyage for Plymouth. A 
Southampton pilot takes charge to ‘ The Xeedles, ’ and the com- 
pany’s pilot, together 'with the captain to Plymouth Breakwater, or 
to the place where we may happen to pick up the Plymouth pilot. 
Here 'we receive the heavy mails, and afterward the latest mails and 
dispatches and the remainder of the passengers. A way-bill from 
the post-office authorities is given me, and, having seen my bill of 
health in order, "we proceed on our voyage, the pilot generally be- 
ing discharged when the ship is pointing to the fair 'way. Then be- 
gins the regular routine. A night order-book is given to the chief 
mate every evening at eight o’clock. It is written and signed by 
the commander; slates the course to be steered; cautions the officers 
as to a vigilant lookout being kept; instructs them as to what sail 
to carry, what lights- are to be 'watched for, and tells them at what 
hour the commander is to be called. At eight a. m., wdiich is al- 
'^vays reported to me, sights are taken, and chronometers compared 
by the captain and chief officer; at nine a.m. the slip’s position is 
worked out by the captain and second officer; at ten a. m. the sec- 
ond officer visits the mail-room and reports the fact to the captain. 
At ten A. M. every Tuesday the captain receives from the steward 
the 'wine- money, sees and signs the officers’ '^ine accounts, also 
store expenditure and copies of the victualing for the different parts 
of the ship for the past week. At eleven a. m. the ship is inspected 
by the captain, chief mate, surgeon, and head steward. I’he places 
visited arc the butcher’s shop, the galleys, the upper and lower 
forecastles, pantries, saloons, bath-rooms, and the sleeping-cabins 
fore and aft. At noon the ship’s position is determined by the cap- 
tain, second, third, and fourth officers, the fourth mate putting in 
his work at one o’clock. The run is always posted up at 12:30 in 
the first, second, and third class saloons; at the same hour log- 
books are examined and signed, and the post-office journal and 
company’s abstract are written up by the captain. The chief en- 
gineer and commander then hold a consultation respecting the speed 
of engines and consumption of fuel. At one o’clock, accompanied 


40 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


by the head steward, I inspect the dinners in the second and third 
class, and also the engineers* mess. At four p. m. the ship’s position 
is verified by sights, and if we are near the land sights are often 
taken twice, and the position verified by Sumner’s method. A stal- 
ls frequently taken in the twilight after dinner, and in the morning 
watch whenever practicable, by the chief officer. Eight o’clock is 
reported to me before the bell is struck, and my written orders are 
then issued for the night.” 

” How often do you verify your position?” 

“ Three times daily, and once or twice at night-time.” 

“ And pray,” said I, “ what discretion is permitted to the officer 
of the watch?” 

” He has the sole charge of the ship and engines in case of emer- 
gency, but he is not allowed to alter the course without my orders, 
unless to go cigar of ships or any other dangers. He is not permit- 
ted to allow any lights to be kept in after the regulation hours 
without my express permission. All lights are reported to the officer 
of the first watch as being extinguished at the time stated in the 
rules. ” 

This may possibly seem somewhat dry reading to landsmen, but 
I hope they will have the patience to follow it, for by such state- 
ments alone will they be able to gather an idea of the incessant de- 
mands made upon the time and vigilance of the commanders of an 
ocean steamship. Of course the vast moral responsibility that 
weighs down on every captain is not included in this thin narrative 
of routine. Take the ship’s company alone of such a vessel as the 
“ Tartar.” Captain and officers number five; carpenter, boatswain, 
and four quartermasters, six; twenty able seamen, four ordinary 
seamen, three boys, six engineers, a boiler-maker and donkey-man, 
twenty-six firemen and trimmers, and twenty-seven stewards. 
Here you have a round hundred of men to do the ship’s work. 
Now, add to these the passengers, from another hundred, if you like 
up to one thousand — I once boarded a National liner on which were 
a thousand emigrants — and then there will be little difficulty in re- 
alizing my meaning when I speak of the vast moral responsibility 
that rests upon the one man to whom is committed this most sacred 
trust of precious human souls. As I before said, an extraordinary 
change has come over the routine of the mercantile marine. The 
obligation of hurry, the imperious sense of urgency, has multiplied 
the responsibilities and greatly increased the duties of the ship- 
master. Wliat they may do now in sailing-ships I can not precisely 
state, but the discipline and habits in the square-rigger of to-day 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


41 


cannot be very widely different from what they were in the old 
clippers and sailing liners twenty or thirty years ago. Then it was 
all plain sailing, indeed. The captain shot the sun, or looK a star; 
his face shone rubicund at the head of the cuddy-table; perhaps 
you might see him in a tall hat and galoches, walking up and down 
the deck in the morning watch while the men washed down; but I 
can not say that I ever heard of him going the rounds of the ship, 
looking into people’s bedrooms to see that they were clean, ' counting 
the live-stock, or writing down his instructions for the night. The 
chief and second mate had watch and watch, both of them with the 
captain took the altitude of the sun af noon, and though gales of 
wind brought their excitement, and though there were a thousand 
jobs connected with the rigging and hull incessantly demanding at- 
tention, yet there was a certain drowsiness in the old discipline, a 
sort of humdrumness that seemed to steal into the ship’s inner life 
out of her motherly round bows, her studding-sail booms, and heavy 
courses, which has been utterly extinguished by the pounding of 
the marine engine and the iron threshing of the propeller. 

Steam has indeed worked an extraordinary transformation. I 
was not at all surprised when Captain Travers informed me that old 
sailors who have been passengers with him were lost in wonder at 
the novelty of the customs and discipline practiced in the steam- 
ship. A reference, indeed, to the daily routine in a few particulars 
under the heading of this chapter may not be deemed out of place. 
For instance, I find the chief male has all day on deck and “ all 
night in ” — that is, he superintends all the deck work from four 
A. M. till eight p. M. In the Channel the officers watch in couples — 
the first and fourth together and the second and third together, four 
hours on and four hours off. But after leaving Ushant the third 
mate takes from eight till noon; the fourth (after leaving latitude 
thirty two degrees north) noon till one p. m.; the second mate has 
from one till five p. m., while the chief mate is supposed to look out 
from five tilT six; but, as a matter of fact, the third and fourth 
mates take it in turns to keep the dinner look-out. So much for 
the officers. Seamen, or “ deck hands,” as they are called, keep 
watch and watch throughout the voyage. The ordinary seamen 
and boys are on all day and in all night. In all harbors on the coast 
(Cape Town Docks except ed) there are always one quartermaster 
and one able seaman on wateli from eight p. m. till six a. m. At sea 
an able seaman keeps a look-out for two hours when the masthead 
lamp is hoisted, and comes off when called by the officer in charge 
at daybreak. Bells are struck every half-hour and called. Every 


42 


A TOT AGE TO THE CAPE. 


hour from ten p. m. till five a. m,, the quartermasters visit the whole 
ship and report to the officer on watch. A further duty of a mate 
in charge after he is relieved in the middle watch is to visit the 
passengers’ deck, fore and aft, and the chief mate does the same 
every morning and evening before reporting eight bells to the cap- 
tain. 

There are many old square-riggers, old tacks-and-sheets men, 
who will be curious to know what there is for Jack on board a 
steamer to put his hand to. The “Tartar” has fidded fore and 
main topmasts, but they might be derricks for all the good they are 
for sailing purposes, Untill learned the truth I would often wonder 
when I gazed aloft what sort of work was expected of the twenty 
able seamen, four ordinary seamen, and three boys who constituted 
the strictly marine element in the ship’s forecastle. Where steam- 
ers carry yards they sheet home and hoist away very often to the 
tune of the old familiar songs; but here»we had nothing to spread 
but shoulder-of-mutton canvas; the rigging was set up with screws, 
and required no attention; there was little risk of the ratlines carry- 
ing awajq because it was the rarest thing in the world for a man to 
mount the shrouds. 

However, I soon found out that if there was nothing to be done 
on high there was plenty for Jack to attend to below. Let me sub- 
mit a few items taken here and there from the list of daily routine 
as it was made out for me by Mr. Reynolds, the chief mate. They 
begin at half-past three in the morning b}'' putting on closed bunker 
lids and by leading the hose along ready for washing down. At 
four o’clock the watch “ turns to,” scrubbing with sand or with 
holystone, while the boys clean brass work. More scrubbing goes 
on at six, and a great deal of washing of wood-work at half -past 
seven. Then at eight o’clock the watch is relieved and the watch 
below comes up and falls to cleaning wood- work fore and aft. From 
nine o'clock onward boats are cleaned, rigging repaired if neces.sary, 
iron-work chipped, wood-work cleaned and varnished, awnings 
doctored, .sails repaired, and so forth. Then I find that besides all 
this cleaning, varnishing, chipping, and the rest of it, the men have 
to work sluices and bulkhead doors, rig bilge pumps, oil the iron- 
work, black the cables, exercise at fire and boat stations, wash 
clothes, and sweep the decks. They get grog on Saturday at eight 
o’clock in the evening. An old sailor might wonder what the mar- 
iner has to do on board steamers, but I confess I never saw the 
watch idle for an instant. There were some sturdy old fists among 
them, with faces like the shell of a walnut, all wrinkles and 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


43 


weather. Some of them had been men-of-warsmen, and if any one 
of them had occasion to go aloft, he would run up the rigging in- 
side the shrouds, clawing the ratlines; a practice good for landsmen 
to admire, but one at which a slow going merchantman is pretty 
sure to gaze askant.* I learned on the whole, from watching the 
sailors on board the “ Tartar,” to feel a higher respect than I had 
before been sensible of for what are termed “ steam-boat men.” I 
fancy that, with very few exertions, the crew of this steamer — all 
of them Englishmen — would have proved themselves good men for 
any kind of craft they had chosen to ” sign on ” for. 


CHAPTER V. 

BOATS AND STORES. 

In these days of ingenious and in many cases valuable marine in- 
ventions, it is inexcusable if a ship be sent to sea unfurnished with 
the best of those life-saving appliances which numerous able and 
laborious inventors have submitted to owners. But it does very 
often happen that when a shipwreck occurs a score of refuges and 
contrivances for life-saving which ought to be aboard are wanting. 
Boats are stowed bottom up, and the ship sinks before they can be 
cleared and got over the side; or they hang in davits through which 
it is found they are too long to be swung when the tragical mo- 
ment comes for their employment; or when lowered the plugs for 
the holes are missing, and a shoe or a hat has to be used for a baler; 
or possibly there are no oars, or if there be oars then the tholepins 
or rowlocks are missing. Perhaps the mast when raised will not 
step, and what should be a good fit has to be doctored jury fashion. 
The falls will not travel; the clip hooks are a cheap and inferior 
pattern. There may be no breakei-s, and when the boat is sent 
adrift in a hurry, full of people, her unfortunate occupants are 
without a drop of water. Nor are provisions thought of, for every- 
thing is left to the last and to chance. In the same way when a 
man falls overboard from a certain kind of ship there is seldom any- 
thing at hand to immediately heave to him. A hen-coop is not a 
thing you can pick up and aim with, and a life-buoy, if securely 
seized to the rail, is of very little use to a drowning man, unless you 
happen to have a big sharp knife to cut and hack away with before 


* This has been misunderstood. What I meant was, no sailor in his senses will 
ever trust a ratline. 


44 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


lie is a mile astern. In the very earliest days of the navy there was 
always plenty of discipline and drill in respect of life-saving. Boats 
had their crews, and every boat could be properly lowered to the 
first alarm given. There were contrivances, too, for night and day 
use, and if a man fell overboard from a man-of-war, there was, as 
there is and always will be, a very good chance of his being rescued. 
But ill the merchant service there has been deplorable neglect in this 
direction. Owners required an act of Parliament to oblige them to 
furnish sufficient boats and buoys. The act, of course, does not go 
nearl}^ far enough. There are scores of vessels afloat licensed to 
carry passengers in numbers preposterously in excess of the means 
supplied for preserving life in the event of disaster. The worst 
illustration under this head may be selected from among the short- 
service steamers and pleasure vessels. You find yourself on board a 
steamer of say three hundred and fifty tons’ burden. You are one 
of four hundred passengers; and when you cast your eyes around 
to note what chance you would have for your life in case of strand- 
ing or collision or fire, j’^ou discover two or three boats snugly secured 
and carefully hidden away under painted canvas covers, with per- 
haps three or four life-buo3'S of an ancient and mouldy appearance, 
so fastened to whatever they ma}’’ hang to that, unless the seizings 
should fortunatel}^ happen to be rotten, a number of precious min- 
utes would be wasted in efforts to cast them adrift. 

\\’'hen a landsman embarks in a ship it is possible indeed that he 
ma_v at the start let his fanc}’ run a little upon the risks of the sea. 
Thoughts of collision, of all the different disasters he has heard and 
read of, may cross his mind. But it is strange if he gives much 
heed to the provisions on board against sea perils. He glances at 
the boats, at the life-buoj'S, at anj” of the patent self-acting contri- 
vj.nces which may chance to be about; he hears of hose for extin- 
guishing fire, of iron doors for cutting off parts of the ship from one 
another. But, as I have said, he looks superficially into these mat- 
ters, and when he steps ashore at the end of the passage he carries 
with him but the vaguest ideas as to what -would have been his and 
his fellow-passengers’ chances had any one of the misfortunes set 
forth in narratives of shipwreck and disasters at sea befallen his 
vessel. 

There can be no question that of late years the merchant service 
in its higher walks has realized a condition of equipment and drill 
for purposes of safe-guarding human life that comes very near to 
the practice and discipline of the Royal Nav 3 ^ The determination 
of the directors of the great steam companies to furnish their ves- 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


4o 


sels with the best appliances for life-saving that are to be had de- 
serves at least appreciative recognition. The act is express so far 
as it goes; yet the owners might, if they chose, secure themselves by 
keeping well within the law, and still send their ships to sea so 
equipped that if a vessel were to sink scores of persons must perish, 
simply from lack of means for preserving their lives.* 

Accepting the “ Tartar^’ as typical only, and being well assured 
that her general apparatus for the protection of passengers in case 
of accident, and the system of drilling regularly practiced through- 
out every passage are very similar to what is to be found in most 
mail and passenger ocean boats after her pattern, I was resolved to 
inquire closely into this feature of what 1 still wish to call the inner 
life of a ship, so that passengers bound away in vessels owned by 
any of the great, well-managed lines might have the satisfaction of 
judging what sort of protection they can in these days depend upon 
directors and builders offering them in the event of their steamer 
being overtaken by one of the many accidents which the utmost 
foresight can not possibly provide against. 

There is not perhaps in these times of iron the same sort of sig- 
nificance to be attached to fire that was found in it in the days of 
wooden ships. Still fire at sea, on board no matter what kind of 
vessel, whether a little timber-built coaster or the biggest metal 
fabric ever launched, is a circumstance full of horror and dread; 
and panic or ignorance in the art of using the appliances designed 
for the extinction of flames may easily render it a frightful calam- 
ity, and convert the structure of the handsomest and stanchest 
steam palace into as awful a theater for human suffering and de- 
spair as ever was the deck of an “ Amazon ” or a “ Kent.” What 
security, then, do the large ocean steamships offer to passengers 
against this most lamentable risk? 

In the case of the ‘ ‘ Tartar ’ ’-—a name that may safely stand for 
many other fine ships — I find that on the main deck there are two 
deliveries on the port side, and one on the starboard side. They are 
connected with the engine-room, and can be worked by two pumps 
on the main engine, and an independent steam donkey. The hose 
and branches are stowed in sacks alongside the delivery pii)es; they 
are always kept ready for instant use, and are long enough to reach 
to any of the compartments. On the upper deck there are thi’ce 

* No doubt passenger steamers should carry more boats than they usually 
sling. The difficulty, it is said, hes in finding room for as many boats as the ac- 
commodation for passengers renders needful. 


46 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


deliveries, one amidships, one forward, and one aft. These are 
connected with the same engines as those which work the other de- 
liveries, and they, too, have hose and branches stowed in readiness 
alongside of them. In addition there is a portable Downton pump, 
and two best navy pumps, as they are called. They all three throw 
a very large mass of water, and are unquestionably first-rate pumps. 
Additional security is found in a large auxiliary boiler, carried 
amidships, by which, in the event of anything happening to the 
boilers, or any breakdown occurring in the engine-room, the 
pumps can be worked, whether for a fire or for a leak. The navy 
pumps are so contrived that they may be turned off from the sea 
and put on the hold. The ’midship pump connects with No, 1 hold 
and b(>iler-room, and the after one of the same pattern with No. 3 
hold and engine-room. 

“ There are ten suctions,” said the commander, ” in the different 
wells, which can be worked by either the two bilge pumps and the 
donkey from the main engines, or by the donkey engine from the 
boiler on deck. Then there are also two large centrifugal pumps 
which can be used on the bilges in the event of the ship holing her- 
self above the double bottom.” 

This, of course, refers to leakage; yet fire is also to be dealt with 
by these appliances. 

” In case of a suction,” he continued, ” getting choked, we could 
let the water run into the next compartment, as each bulkhead is 
fitted with sluice-valves of twenty-six inches area, which are work- 
ed from the deck. I should tell you that the sluices and pumps are 
worked at least once a week, also all water-tight doors on the main- 
deck, engine-room, boiler-room, and coal-bunkers; and entries re- 
specting them are made by the chief oflicer and chief engineer in 
the logbooks.” 

I asked what were the customs as to drill and muster. 

‘‘ When,” was the answer, “ the men sign articles they agree to 
muster and go through their fire- and boat-drill on the day previous 
to sailing from England. So in the morning of the day, as agreed, 
the men assemble, the watches are called, and tlien all are told off 
to their respective stations. This is called the captain’s muster. 
An hour later the whole crew are again mustered, put through their 
drill, and piped down. The ship is then inspected and steam ordered. 
“We have fire- and boat-drill regularly once a week at sea. The 
chief officer sees that the men are at their stations and reports the 
fact to me. The pumps are tried, and the third mate visits the 
main deck, and observes that the hands are at their places there by 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


47 


the water-tight doors. The crew are then told off to their respective 
boats, and after the chief mate has noted that the men are at their 
proper places, six of the boats are swung out and in. In the tropics 
two of the life-boats are swung out and in every evening.” 

1 witnessed this drill many times, and was always pleased and 
impressed by it. The men to the boatswain’s pipe and hoarse ciy 
tumbled aft swiftly and nimbly. You could see, at a time of 
danger, how custom was sure to prevail and form the deeply-needed 
discipline, by the instinctive promptness with wdiich every man 
sprung to his jDroper post. In truth, it was not a little reassuring 
W'hen the eye sought the mightiness of the deep, and the mind went 
to the crowd of human beings on board the ship, to mark tlie man- 
of-war-like discipline that these plain merchant sailors fell into to 
the tune of the boatswain’s call; to observe the swiftness with which 
they swmng out each large and powerful life-boat over the side clear 
to its falls; and to hearken to the furious gushing of the thick 
streams of water from the hose, ready in a breath to be pointed to a 
flame the instant it was discovered. 

The davits with which the “ Tartar ” is fitted are something en- 
tirely new to me, and I consequently watched their action with 
curiosity. They lean from the rail inboards, so that the boats 
hanging at them have their keels resting on chocks within the rail. 
By means of a wheel and a screw each davit is worked forward to 
the side, necessarily carrying the boat with it, so that the gear ends 
in leaving the boat lifted clear of her chocks and hanging fair over 
the w^ater. The appliance is ingenious, and I think valuable. It 
saves the troublesome slewing of the davits, and also enables the 
boat to hang outside the davits and yet inside the rail. Continuing 
my questions, I inquired of the captain w^hat life-saving appliances 
he had besides his boats. 

“'Well,” said he, “we have a life-buoy termed Jones’s Patent. 
It falls with a w^eighted staff and a red flag in the daytime, and at 
night it burns a Holme’s light. There are tw'o of these, one aft on 
the taffrail, and one under the bridge On the upper bridge, hurri- 
cane deck, upper deck, and about the stern there are many life-buoys 
hanging in cleats. They are lifted just as you take your hat off a 
peg, and dropped overboard. ’ ’ 

“ How many boats have you?” 

“ Six life- boats, three cutters, and one mail-boat. The life-beats 
are twenty-eight feet long and seven feet six inches beam, and I have 
calculated that the ten boats could accommodate, in all, four hun- 
dred and twenty-five persons, allowing fifty people to each life-boat, 


48 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


and ihirty-five to each of the three cutters.* The boats are fitted 
with gear far in excess of the requirements of the law, and they are 
ready for lowering at a moment’s notice. 

“ How about taking charge of them in case of having to abandon 
the ship?” 

“I, as commander, would take number one starboard life-boat; 
the four mates have charge of other boats and cutters; the boat- 
swain, carpenter, and three quartermasters would take command of 
the remainder.” 

“ Each person having charge would, of course, know what boat 
to enter?” 

“ Certainly. Here in this list you have a catalogue of boat sta- 
tions, and the names of the crew of each boat. There can be no 
confusion. Our instructions are exceedingly simple in case of 
leaving the ship. It is the duty of the ofEcers to see their respective 
boats ready for lowering, and to guard against any one entering or 
attempting to lower a boat without the captain's personal order. 
Then, the surgeon, head steward, cooks, head waiter, baker, and 
butcher get water and provisions ready, and see that each boat is 
victualed. The duty of procuring compasses, books, nautical in- 
struments, lamps, matches, blue lights, rockets, and so forth, rests 
with the officers in command of the boats.” 

” Are your boats ready watered?” 

“Yes. The breakers are always kept filled. Each officer sees to 
his boat in- this respect. The breakers are refilled once a week, 
that the water, in case of sudden emergency, might be found sweet. 
With regard to provisions, the life-boats are all fitted with two air- 
tight, galvanized-iron tanks, in which may be stored the necessary 
articles of food. The boats pull ten oars double banked, and under 
every man’s seat there is hung a life-belt formed of cork.” 

I trust that these facts may be found not without interest. For 
my part I was extremely curious, before I embarked on this voyage, 
to know what foresight was to be witnessed on board ocean steam- 
ships in regard to the supplemntary conditions of the passengers* 
and crew’s safety. Breakers might lie in the boats; but were they 

* I do not know how many persons this ship is equipped to carry, but more, 
no doubt, than four hundred and twenty-five. Liberally as she is stocked with, 
boats, it is manifest they could not preserve all the lives that might be found 
on board the vessel. There is no room for more boats; rafts I consider worth- 
less, .save in dead calms; but an ample life-saving apparatus might easily be 
contrived by the adoption of folding boats, or of stowing boats one inside an- 
other. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


49 


kept tilled so that water should he there for the shipwrecked people 
to drink, no matter how furious might be the panic at the last, how 
hopeless the confusion, how mad the hurry? Were there persons 
appointed to see that every boat was properly victualed before being 
sent adrift from the sinking or the stranded craft? Were officers 
rendered responsible for the proper equipment of boats, so that the 
occupants should not find out when too late that rowlocks were 
missing, that oars were gone, that there was no rudder, or, if a 
rudder, no yoke or tiller to control it with; that there was a mast, 
but no sail, or a sail, but no mast? These matters are rightly or- 
dered in the great lines; yet the companies can not too strongly in- 
sist upon the necessity of captains and mates taking the same sort 
of interest in their life-boats that they would feel if they knew they 
would have to use them for the preservation of their own and the 
passengers’ lives within the next few hours. One may be, at all 
events, quite sure that the traveler would always most gladly and 
eagerly use those steamers whose stanchness of build and agreeable- 
ness of internal decoration are supplemented by the strictest habits 
of discipline, and, therefore, by familiar usage in the handling of 
the ship’s boats, in the watering and provisioning of them, and in 
the preservation of their seaworthiness as structures ready at any 
hour of the day or night for immediate use. 

It is possible, however, that the reader may conclude I have ex- 
hibited too much curiosity in the direction of life-saving appliances, 
and that I should have done better by talking about the steward 
and the cook, and the bills of fare. A passenger steamer is indeed 
a kind of hotel, and obviously among the most important person- 
ages on board of her must be the head steward and the cook, the 
two powers who rule the tables of the saloon, and who supply us 
with the most welcome of all breaks in the monotony of sea ex- 
istence. The head steward must needs be a feature of weight and 
moment in the internal economy of the ship. The popularity of 
the vessel must depend a very great deal upon him. Ill-chosen and 
badly cooked provisions, a meager table, and indifferent wines will 
be remembered to the prejudice of a vessel when the lively grati- 
tude inspired by the commander’s able management in foul weather 
and amid dangerous seas has long ago faded out. 

I could never gaze at the head steward of the “ Tartar ” without 
an emotion of respect not unmingled with awe. Care lay dark in 
every seam in his face. How should it have been otherwise? He 
had a number of stewards under him who needed close watching. 
He had two cooks, a butcher, and a baker to confer with, remon- 


50 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


strate with, and quarrel with. I remember a man once complaining 
to me that his father allowed him but one hundred a year, which 
was all he had to live upon. “ For, consider,” said he, ” that there 
are in one year alone not only three hundred and sixty-five break- 
fasts, but three hundred and sixty-five luncheons and three hundred 
and sixty-five dinners!” But think of an official having every day 
Avhile he is at sea to provide three sets of breakfasts for the three 
classes of passengers, two dinners and a luncheon, a dinner, and 
two teas and two suppers. 

” It is not,” exclaimed the steward to me, in a voice broken by 
emotion, ” as if there were a meat market over the side where, if I 
were at a loss to know what change of dish to offer, I could pur- 
chase what I wanted.” 

In this lies every head steward’s difficulty. A certain amount of 
provisions is put on board, and out of what there is a man has to 
provide as good a dinner as you would get at an excellent taUe- 
d'liote ashore. How it is done beats my time; but it is done. 
Whence the conclusion must necessarily be that head stewards 
are natural geniuses, born to move in culinary and gastronomic 
spheres where plenty reigns, where tinned stuffs are unknown, and 
where there are no shipboard limitations to obstruct a choice and 
expansive taste. 

I will ask the reader to bear with me for a moment, while I give 
him examples of the character of a few of the meals furnished to 
first, second, and third passengers on board my three-masted 
schooner. Here are three saloon breakfast illustrations : 

1. Bloaters, mutton chops, grilled ham, deviled turkey, Irish 
stew, savory omelettes, curry and rice, porridge, and potatoes. 

2. Fried fish, mutton chops, minced veal, liver and bacon, sau- 
sages, deviled bones, curry and rice, boiled eggs, porridge, and 
potatoes. 

3. Haddock, grilled rump steak, eggs and bacon, chicken, and 
rice, grilled bones, Irish stew, and so on. 

For samples of a second-class breakfast: 

1. Fried fish, mutton chops, boiled eggs, porridge, and potatoes. 

2. Haddock, grilled steak, eggs and bacon, porridge, and pota- 
toes. 

This, in my time, would have been thought an exceptionally fine 
repast to serve in a cuddy where they charged you seventy and 
ninety guineas for a cabin. For the third class the head steward 
manages to make out a plentiful meal of Irish stew, salt fish, steak, 
hashed meats, and porridge without limit. As an example of a 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


51 


saloon luncheon, the bill of fare offered soup, two entrees, potatoes, 
cold meats of every description, and when I questioned the steward 
he told me that in hot weather he gives brawn, pressed tongue, 
raised pies, cold poultry, fish, four kinds of pastry, fruits, and 
salads. 

How is it done? 1 have before me a list of the dry and wet stores 
on board the vessel, and, on looking over it, I still find myself say- 
ing, “ How is it done?” For, take such a saloon dinner as this: 
Vegetable soup, jugged hare and currant jelly, cOtelettes de veau au 
jambon, corned beef and carrots, roast goose and savory sauce, roast 
leg of mutton and currant jelly, prawn curry, boiled and baked 
potatoes, cauliflowers and turnips, tapioca pudding, Madeira cake, 
jam tartlets, and assorted dessert. This, one might suppose, should 
satisf)^ the most exacting of passengers on board ship; but indeed it 
is the liberality I note in the feeding of the second and third classes 
that impresses me most. It was far otherwise in the long voyage 
days. I have seen the steerage passengers, as we then called the 
third-class people, hanging about the ship’s galley with hook-p(.ts 
in their hands, waiting to receive their disgusting dose of so-called 
pea soup, their hard, unmasticable ” dollop ” of salt-horse or pork, 
their frightful pudding of dark flour and the skimmings of the 
coppers. Now I find them sitting down every day to a good joint, 
with plenty of vegetables; a hearty pudding, which the children 
enjoy twice a week, with jam or marmalade from time to time, and 
as much biscuit and cheese as they can eat every evening. As a 
sample of a second-class dinner I note : 

1. Soup, roast mutton, boiled fowls, steak pie, two vegetables, 
and two kinds of pastry. 

2. Soup, roast goose, roast mutton, curry and rice, vegetables, 
and pudding. 

The list of stores does not tell me how it is done. I observe 
spices, sugar, all sorts of groceries, all sorts of cheesemongery, all 
sorts of tinned provisions. I also find one cow, thirty sheep, twelve 
dozen ducks, twelve dozen fowls, twenty-four geese, and eighteen 
turkeys. Then there is dead stock kept in the ice-roorn, such as 
one thousand six hundred pounds of fresh beef, four sheep carcases, 
two hundred pounds of pork, suet, sausages, and poultry. I also 
note five tons of potatoes, along with a plentiful list of parsnips, 
carrots, onions, turnips, and such vegetables. The endless bills of 
fare are manufactured out of this list, and the steward has only his 
store-rooms and the butcher’s shop to go to. All that we eat is sail- 


5 ? 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


iiig along with us — an obvuous truth! Yet still it leaves me wonder- 
ing, when I look at the long and liberal menus, how it is done. 

I recollect the steward taking me, at my request, to see his store- 
rooms. They were well forward under the forecastle; the ship was 
pitching heavily at the time, and every moment the scuttles were 
veiled by the dark, green water, leaving us in a sort of forest twi- 
light, amid which I could faintly discern puzzling shapes of bins 
full of sugar, oatmeal, pease, coffee; vast blocks of tobacco; with 
hams grinning like sculptured effigies in battens under the ceiling. 
In the ice-house, upon lumps of ice, twenty-five tons in all, lay a 
sort of field-of-battle of dead beef, mutton, veal, pork, fowls, 
tongues, geese, turkeys, rabbits, hares, not to mention large landed 
estates of salads, cucumbers, radishes, tomatoes, lettuce, apples, 
and many other such things. In the wine- room there stood up 
before me, amid the green glimmer, dusky outlines of racks full of 
bottles, bins full of soda and other waters, casks of rum which bore 
the appearance of immensely fat men crouching in a drunken pos- 
ture as the dim lantern, held by an attendant, shone faintly upon 
the objects, and mingled its flickering, yellow luster with the start- 
ling tints alternating from the brightness of the blue sky sifting in 
a weeping light through the draining glass of the scuttles, and from 
the veiling green rush of the head sea rising, roaring, above those 
port-holes to the heavy plunging of the great driven steamer. 

Vessels in the trade in which the “ Tartar ” is engaged hardly 
require a refrigerating-room. An ice-house seems to achieve all 
that is necessar)^ in the way of preserving articles of provisions both 
out and home. At all events, the ice-house does not offer the risk 
of a break-down. This sometimes happens in the refrigerating- 
room. The steward gave me an instance of a W est India steamer 
that had to put in to Lisbon because of some failure in the freezing 
compartment. All the dead meat she bad was hove overboard, and 
at great inconvenience a place had to be found amidships for the 
reception of a quantity of live-stock. 

It is not very wonderful that the typical chief steward should be 
found carrying a grave face about with him. The baker comes and 
tells him that all the yeast has turned bad. A capsizal in the galley 
may drive him to his wits’ ends. Then the constant destruction of 
crockery in heavy weather is a perpetual torment to him. IMy 
steward told me that one day, in an unusually heavy lurch, every- 
thing contained in the fiddles pitched through the railed opening 
down to where the main-deck cabins are. The smash was awful, 
and the tables were swept clean. Cruet-stands and their bottles, 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


53 


knives, forks, glasses, dessert-dishes, several varieties of fruit, salt- 
cellars, flowers, and the rest of the furniture you find on a dinner- 
table before the meal is served, rolled their messes of oil, mustard, 
and the like, their fragments of glass and china, to and fro in a 
heart subduing manner, and with sounds to which the shouts of the 
irritated waiters imparted a distracting edge. I asked the steward 
what was the average of breakages during a voyage, and he an- 
swered about twenty-five pounds. I suspect the companies require 
to keep a sharp eye on this victualing and provisioning department 
of their ships. I said to the steward, 

“You have had great experience in the West India and other 
lines; can you suggest any further measures than are now in force 
to secure directors against the frauds which may be perpetrated by 
dishonest servants?” 

He thought awhile, and then said, ‘ ‘ No. The rules were such 
that he didn’t believe the meanest rogue living could find a loop- 
hole in them. ’ ’ 

As a sample of robberies which dishonest men will commit when 
a chance offers, I was told of a steward who sneaked a quantity of 
wine and spirits aboard a vessel, and sold his own stuff instead of 
the company’s. But, as I have said in a previous paper, the waiters 
and bedroom stewards have a hard time of it. At 4:30 every morn- 
ing they have to scrub down, and they are rarely off their legs from 
that hour up to eleven o’clock at night. I used to notice the fever- 
ish eagerness with which the wearied fellows extinguished the lamps 
at ten o’clock, and the sort of new life they infused into themselves 
to roll up the carpets and to prepare the saloon for the morning’s 
wash-down, in order to get to bed. However, many of them man- 
age pretty well in the matter of payment. They sign, indeed, for 
a mere trifle; but the “ tips ” frequently amount to a considerable 
sum, and several instances were given to me of under-stewards who 
in this way received more money than the chief mate’s pay amount- 
ed to.* Another question I took some interest in was the quantity 
of fresh water carried, and the means of producing more in case of 
a ])reak-down and a long detention at sea. I was told that the 
“ Tartar” leaves England with about seventy-two tons (over sixteen 
thousand gallons), and during the voyage takes in ninety-four tons 
(over twenty-four thousand gallons). Besides this she has a con- 
denser, capable of producing hundreds of gallons a day. 

And now a final word as to Jack’s dietary. Some time ago a 


* £18 a month, I believe. 


54 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


friend of mine, Captain Crutchley, commanding one of the finest 
of the New Zealand Company’s boats, in the course of a chat over 
old times, told me that in his service the crew got Irish stew for 
breakfast, with plenty of fresh meat and a good pudding for dinner. 
Vessels which carry frozen carcasses as a portion of their cargo 
would probably find fresh meat as cheap to serve out to the men as 
the traditional beef and pork. But what is the general rule? How 
is Jack commonly fed in the great ocean steamers? The experi- 
ences I am relating have taught me that on the whole there has 
been no great change since the days of tacks and sheets. I had 
suspected as much; yet I confess I was not a little disappointed to 
find my conjectures right. Directors and managing owners are 
astonishingly law-abiding in their relations with forecastle life. I 
still find each man getting his one pound and a half of salt-horse 
and his one pound and a quarter of fossilized pig, his half-pound of 
fiour, his one third of a pint of pease, his quarter of an ounce of tea, 
his half-ounce of coffee, his weekly one pound of sugar, and his 
daily three quarts of water. When he gets butter one pound of 
meat only is allowed, and he is supplied with a little caulker of 
rum on Saturday nights only.* Here in this matter of rum the old 


* Sailors are accused of drunkenness. But the mere circumstance of their 
being at sea for many months in the year, and never getting a drop of spirits 
to drink when at sea, should prove them the most temperate community of men 
in the world. Nautical readers will smile at the following verses taken from 
some doggerel rhymes (by a ship’s carpenter), leveled at most things, but in 
particular at the food served out to crews: 

“ I snubb’d skipper for bad grub — 

Rotten flour to eat— 

Hard tack full of weevils— Lord! 

How demon chandlers cheat! 

Salt junk like mahogany, 

Sc ur vying man and boy; 

Says he, ‘Where’s your remedy?* 

Board of Trade, ahoy ! 

“ Can ye wonder mutiny 
Lubber-like will work 
In our mercantile marine 
Crammed with measly pork? 

Is it wonderful that men 
Should lose their native joy 
With provisions maggoty? 

Board of Trade, ahoy ! 


\ 


“ Oh ! had we a crew to stand 
By when we’re ashore, 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


55 


rule was no doubt more to Jack’s taste— that cheerful custom, I 
mean, of serving out a “ tot of grog ” every day at noon, and of 
splicing the main-brace periodically in foul weatlier, when reefing 
topsails had found some heavy work for the men’s hands, and 
wdieii the air was full of ice and frost, and the dark forecastle and 
every rag of clothes in it dripping wet. However, justice obliges 
me to say that the crew of the particular ship I am dealing with 
w^ere better off, in spite of the strict adherence to Board of Trade 
regulations, than those who sailed the seas in other times. Better 
off i>erhaps than are the sailors in many ships and steamers at this 
moment afloat, because, so the steward told me, they “ came in ” 
for sundry pickings from the tables of the passengers, while a par- 
ticular service such as a quartermaster or seaman could render in his 
watch below would be rewarded by a fresh mess. 


CHAPTER VI. 

PAST THE CANARIES. 

While we have been examining the life-saving appliances, pen- 
etrating the thunderous bows to inspect the steward’s store-rooms, 
and overhauling the hidden features of the vessel, she has been 
steadily steaming on at rates varying from twelve to thirteen and a 
half knots an hour. The land of Madeira lies leagues distant 
astern of us, and the great Atlantic spreads its boundless surface, 
blue, brilliant, and beautiful, from under our stem into the distant 
splendor of the heavens. Regularly at noon Captain Travers ogles 
the sun through his sextant, with a clouded face; he can not be sure 
of his run: he has the skipper’s proverbially misgiving soul. The 
ship may have been stopped a mile an hour by some subtle current 
or by some capricious action of the deep obnoxious to the enthusi- 
asm of a man whose heart is in his mail-room. Yet as regularly as 
the sights are worked out the countenance of the commander clears, 
for the run is a good one; three hundred and fourteen perhaps, 
sometimes rising to three hundred and twenty-four, and sometimes 
to three hundred and twenty-nine. To be sure, in the face of the 


Show this horrid stuff that pigs 
Even would abhor ! 

Sue the swindling dealer, 
Who’d our health destroy; 
What say ye, O sailor friends? 
Board of Trade, ahoy 1” 


56 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


Atlantic expresses, these speeds look small enough. But then we 
must remember that here is a voyage lasting over three weeks; in 
other words, it is three times as long as the Atlantic passage. Ma- 
deira provides a rest of two or three hours only. For the remainder 
of the time the engines are grinding without intermission. Nor 
should it be forgotten that orders- are given to the captains of vessels 
carrying mails and passengers to South African parts not to exceed 
a certain consumption of coal per day. Captain Travers told me 
that, had he full powers in this respect, there were times when he 
could have easily worked the ship up into a couple of knots an 
hour faster than she was then traveling. 

We had many arguments, spun many a long, four-stranded, left- 
handed twister together; conversed about the old sailing days, of 
early struggles, of vanished shipmates, dear to memory as associates 
in our youthful pranks, our light-hearted revelries, and of the cold 
or scorching labors of the mariner’s vocation. On the bridge once, 
and after surveying the large fabric of the steamer, lifting her swell- 
ing bows crowned with a high topgallant forecastle to a moderate 
head swell, I talked with the commander of the maneuvering of 
these huge, long iron structures under various conditions of 
weather. 

“Some time ago,” said I, “I was at Plymouth, and fell into a 
conversation with an old Scotch captain who was overseeing a little 
bark in dry dock there. He told me that a few evenings before he 
was sitting in the smoking-room of a Liverpool hotel when a couple 
of shipmasters belonging to tw'o of the great Anglo-American lines 
entered, and after awdiile got into an argument on the subject of 
heaving a long steamer to in a gale of wind. One of them, he said, 
stated that he had never yet been -obliged to heave his ship to, but 
that were he reduced to such a pass he w^ould stop the engines and 
let her take up her own position. The other commander said no, 
he had twice been forced to heave his ship to, and he found the 
safest w’-ay to do so w^as to put his helm up and let her go l)efore it 
with the engines at dead slow. The sea underran her handsomely, 
and she rose and fell with dry decks. ‘Now,’ said my Plymouth 
friend to me, ‘ what do you think of the change that has come over 
the marine profession when you hear of a shipmaster advocating 
scudding as a method of heaving to ’ 

Captain Travers laughed. “ It sounds queer, doesn’t it?” saidhe. 

“ How w'ould Amu heave to?” said I. 

“ I should keep her bows on to sea,” he answered. “ But let me 
give you an experience. 1 w^as crossing the Bay in the memorable 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


57 


gale of September 1, 1883, when a heavy sea lifted the after davit 
of the first cutter out of its socket. You may guess the volume 
and altitude of tliat sea by observing the height at which these boats 
are suspended. The boat, of course, was lost, but the chain-span 
held the davit alongside the ship, and this great piece of metal 
struck the plating continuously, at times very heavily indeed. 
Fearing that a rivet, or even a butt would be started, or that the 
span might carry away, and possibly, though not probably, foul the 
p>ropeller, I stopped the engines, in order to get our dangerous cus- 
tomer inboard. The result was simply marvelous. The ship, down 
to this moment, had been plunging heavily and burying her lee 
side in the water, shipping green seas right fore and aft on both 
sides. But when the engines were stopped the vessel brought the 
wind and sea about four points on the bow and lay perfectly quiet, 
the spray only blowing over her. We lay like this for about three 
quarters of an hour, and then, having got the davit in, went ahead, 
when the same violent plunging and straining and lurching recom- 
menced. The wind was N. W. i W., and the ship steering N. E. 
At four A. M. the close-reefed fore-topsail — we then carried square 
yards forward — blew away with a report like that of a cannon. At 
eight A. M. the foresail that was being reefed and hanging in its gear 
vanished in thunder like so much smoke. If,” added the com- 
mander, ” I ever encounter a heavy gale in the South Atlantic, and 
want to heave to, I shall certainly try the method of stopping the 
engines. But this could not be done in the bay, as the ship would 
drift too far down into the bight to render the maneuver safe.” 

In this fashion the captain and I kill what little leisure he has to 
spare me. Meanwhile the steamer, with a ceaseless roaring at her 
stem, speeds onward through many a beautiful ocean-picture of 
sunny light and star-clad darkness. Madeira passed, and the month 
being December, there comes a keen delight in sitting on deck. The 
early heat of the sun is sweet as cordial to nerve, brain, and limb. 
The sea is a deep blue, with a breeze warm as a baby’s breath, and 
as fragrant, and with weight enough to curl the head of each sea 
into a line of shining snow that furnishes an exquisite contrast to 
the violet hollows into which the foam falls with a hundred frag- 
ments of rainbow irradiating its descent. The water washes past in 
cream, and the bow wave on either hand slings its glittering masses 
to the windward surges, where they leap colliding to the sun in a 
million crystals, or lace the smooth backs of the leeward billows 
with dissolving traceries of marvelously delicate and fragile con- 
formation. Or it may be that the deep goes smooth as the surface 


58 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


of a lens to the clear sea-line darkened over the port bow by a bank 
of raining cloud, flushed with the kaleidoscopic hues you find in 
the pearly insides of shells, shifting and glimmering upon their 
higher reaches; while upon the weather-beam are the white shoul- 
ders of vapor whose extremities are hidden beyond. They so re- 
semble ships that a young lady steals up to me, and in a voice sub- 
dued by the beauty of the sight, asks if I am quite certain they are 
not a squadron of men-of-war bearing down upon us under all can- 
vas? Or, again, there comes an evening with a hint of the tropics 
in the hard brightness of the heavens. There is a glow as of copper 
under the rayless, palpitating sun that seems to fling no luster down 
upon the deep, which runs to it in a pale-blue sea, darkening out on 
either hand into delicate slate, while here and there the ocean line 
melts into the sky. You lose the continuity of the circle, and think 
that the gloom of the night, like advancing bodies of crawling mist, 
is creeping in fragments and blotting out the daylight in bits at a 
time. 

Off Cape Blanco I was provided with an illustration of one of the 
strongest contrasts in respect to the transformation that has been 
wrought at sea which I had heretofore encountered. This came in 
the shape of the heaving of the lead. It was possible to look aloft 
at naked masts uncrossed by yards; to gaze over the side and ob- 
serve the fabric under your feet flying forward in the teeth of a 
strong wind at a speed of thirteen knots an hour; and find nothing 
strikingly novel in the spectacle. But when one talks of taking a 
cast of the lead the mind does not readily accommodate itself to the 
notion of finding bottom from a vessel storming along at a pace 
that gives her a run of c»ver three hundred miles in twenty-four 
hours. Soundings are now had from the deck of a steamer, 
whether traveling at thirteen or at twenty miles an hour; and they 
could be obtained, I dare say, if she could be made to steam at fifty 
miles an hour. It was the first time, indeed, that I had ever seen 
Sir William Thomson’s sounding-machine used, and I watched the 
action of the beautiful invention with the deepest interest and ad- 
miration. We w^ere off Cape Blanco, and where the lead -was hove 
the chart showed a depth of thirty- six fathoms. There is a drum 
fixed well aft, fitted with a break-cord, and wound around this 
drum are three hundred fathoms of exceedingly fine but extraordi- 
narily strong wire. At the extremity of this wire there is fastened 
a very heavy iron sinker, “ armed,” as the old-fashioned deep-sea 
is; that is to say, furnished with a lump of sticky substance for 
showing the character of the bottom. At a short distance from the 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


59 


sinker there is attached to the wire a copper tube containing a her- 
metically sealed glass tube filled with a chemical liquid upon which 
the salt acts. When the tube is hauled up the glass is taken out 
of it, and the extent of the discoloration of the liquid is measured 
by a graduated box- wood scale, which indicates by marking the ex- 
tent of the change in the color of the chemical the exact depth of 
the sea at the place where the lead is hove. 

I do not know whether I am correctly describing this very re- 
markable invention, nor whether my words are at all successful in 
giving an idea of the nature of it to the reader. I am writing from 
memory only. But, as I have always said, of all the contrasts I 
found between the old and the new life in the fine steamer in which 
I was journeying to the Cape of Good Hope as a passenger, nothing 
impressed me more forcibly than the exact measurement of the' 
depth of the sea, snatched with mathematical accuracy from a sur- 
face over which we were being driven at a velocity of between thir- 
teen and fourteen knots an hour. The mariner, indeed, owes a large 
debt of gratitude to Sir William Thomson. His inventions are 
marvelously fine, and of incalculable advantages to the seaman. 

And yet such amazing departures as this deep-sea lead from the 
old beaten track do but furnish a wonderful testimony to the naut- 
ical judgment and shrewd perception of our grandsires, since they 
compel us to observe, by forcing our gaze backward, so to speak, 
that most of the essentials of the fabric and furniture of a sailing- 
ship we in this age of advanced science do yet repeat without hav 
iug improved upon the examples our forefathers furnished us with. 
An old sailor stepping on board a vessel fitted with what may be 
called the most “improved appliances,” might find, indeed, some 
changes that would bewilder him, yet not so many but that a glance 
aloft and a turn or two about the decks would make him speedil^^ 
feel at home. The running-gear still leads very much after the old 
fashion. Dead-eyes may be wanting, and there may be an arrange- 
ment of screws where lanyards formerly did the work; but the shear- 
poles are still in their places, and the ratlines are fitted to the 
shrouds as though the rigging had been rattled down by Anson’s 
men or the hearties of Nelson’s time. The cat-head is gone, and 
there is a crane or davit to take the place of that ponderous projec- 
tion of timber, with its big sheave-holes and massive gear. The 
bowsprit and jibbooms are in one, and are of iron. The windlass 
is revolved by steam, the donke}'- engine snorts as the windlass 
swings the cargo out of the hold; tacks and sheets arc metal ropes; 
the masts are no longer fidded, but slide into one another like the 


60 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


tubes of a telescope; there are double yards as high as the topgal- 
lant mast, boats lie keel up on skids, instead of being griped and 
hanging over the side from the davits. Yet the wisdom of our an- 
cestors is still in our ships; there is less beam, indeed; the dimen- 
sions of some craft would make many an old pigtail stand straight 
out like a pump-handle with consternation at proportions so antag- 
onistic to the comfortable theories of length four times the breadth. 
But substantially the changes are very much fewer than people 
would suppose, speaking, that is, of the sailing-ship. 

Marine conservatism that is due, perhaps, not so much to blind 
adherence to the past as to the perception that the skill, cunning, 
and experiences of our forefathers left us, on the whole, not very 
much to improve upon, is curiously illustrated by two of the three 
famous L’s. The “ three L’s ” are Lead, Latitude, and Lookout; 
they might more worthily stand for Log, Lead, and Lights; or, 
since the lookout is essential, let the log be dropped for good eyes; 
but give us the lights anyhow. The log and lead are the illustra- 
tions I mean. The lump of lead attached to a line and dropped 
over the side to ascertain how far off the bottom of the sea is; the 
clattering reel-log, with its immense scope of line, knots, bag or 
chip, or “logship,” as it is sometimes called, and its sand-glass — 
how long have these primitive contrivances been in use? I have 
somewhere read that the reel-log is as old as the fifteenth century; 
and the hand-lead, we may presume, is coeval with the first sailor, 
black or white or yellow, that ever felt himself under the necessity 
to discover whether the water shoaleil under his little ship as she 
sailed along. For how better should a man find the depth of water 
than by attaching a weight to the end of a line, dropping it over 
tlie side, and then measuring the extent of line the weight carried 
with it? This is the theory of the hand-lead; and of the deep-sea 
lead, too. It is not so old as Adam, simply because Adam never 
went to sea, but it is quite likely to be as old as Noah, It has come 
straight down through our naval story of all times; and in this 
truly wonderful age of scientific achievements it may fairly be con- 
sidered as held by the mariner to be still one of the most trust- 
worthy implements in the machinery devised by human skill for the 
navigation of ships. In a well-known work on navigation the 
writer says: “In tracing the various improvements which have 
been made from time to time in the nautical profession, it is not a 
little strange that the lead-line has been permitted to remain thus 
long in statu quo, with the same rude marks which it probably had 
in the offset of its use. ^et such is the fact, notwithstanding the 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


61 


numberless abilities of professional writers who have one by one 
handed down, with the care of a Scriptural translation, these relics 
of primitive seamanship.” This was written in the days W’hen 
Darcy Lever, Glascock, Murphy, Jeffers, and the like, were nautical 
authorities. Since then there have been innumerable contrivances 
for taking soundings by automatic arrangements. Some of them 
are excellent. The failures, on the other hand, have been very 
numerous. One is stated by the writer I have just quoted as con- 
sisting of an instrument which contained a small glass tube that 
had a hole at the lower extremity, protected by a spring which per- 
mitted a proportionate quantity of water to rise in the tube. The 
idea was ingenious, but the spring proved untrustworthy, and the 
mariner, in a hurry to get home, bothered to death by registrations 
■which he knew to be false, his maintopsail aback and all hands 
grumbling, rushed precipitately to first principles, and with a sigh 
of deep relief heard the hoarse cry rising from the side of ” By the 
deep, nine!” 

The great secret of all successful marine invention or improve- 
ment is simplicity, and herein lies one of the distinctive merits of 
Sir William Thomson’s sounding-machine. Any man who could 
make one rope do the work of two was an inventor to be blessed by 
sailors. The designer of a block whose sheave traveled easily, in- 
stead of jamming upon its pin as in olden times, would be justly 
esteemed a marine benefactor. Jack perfectly w^ell knows that a 
ship is in reality as complex to his hands as she looks to be, with her 
cobweb of rigging, to the landsman’s eye. To win his confidence 
in your talent you must give him something speedy in its opera- 
tions and sure in its results; for eveiy thing at sea must be done 
quickly, and, whatever the issue, it must correspond as accurately 
with what is required as human judgment can contrive it. The old 
hand or deep-sea lead, and the old reel-log, in both which con- 
trivances you may find the simple wisdom of our nautical progeni- 
tors, are like the Jacks of an ancient date, rough, but ready and 
reliable. The sailor finds comfort in their primitiveness, and al-^ 
though he may carry patents of wonderful ingenuity and fidelity 
with him, he will never, or at all events he ought never to, be 
found without those humble instruments with which our forefathers 
measured and sounded their way through thickness and through 
darkness over unfurrowed surfaces. The lead and lines may be 
briefly described. One is called the hand-lead, the other the deep- 
sea (pronounced ” dipsey ”) lead. The hand-lead -vveighs from seven 
pounds to fourteen pounds, and is attached to a line from twenty to 


62 


A VOTAGE TO THE CAPE. 


twenty-five fathoms long. This line has indications at intervals of 
a fathom called “ marks ” and “deeps.” Those fathoms which 
are indicated, as with a piece of leather, a piece of red or white or 
blue bunting, and so forth, are called “ marks;” the unindicated 
fathoms are termed “ deeps.” Hence the leadsman, after swinging 
the lead forward and touching bottom with it, delivers the depth by 
calling out “ By the mark, five,” “ By the deep, eight,” according 
as the indication is with the marks or the deeps. If the depth is a 
little more than the indication, or than the “ deep ” which he has 
to judge, he cries, “ And a quarter eight,” or whatever the figure 
maj^ be. If less, then “A quarter less eight,” as it may 
happen. 

On the other hand, the deep sea lead line may range to two hun- 
dred fathoms long, and the lead attached to it weigh as much as 
thirty pounds. At the bottom of this lead grease, or tallow, or 
soap may be placed in a hollow formed to receive some sticky sub- 
stance of the kind. This is called the “ arming,” and to it will ad- 
here fragments denoting the character of the boltom, so that a 
navigator by looking at this “arming” after the lead has been 
drawn up will often know where he is as accurately as if the coast 
were in clear view. The old custom of marking the deep-sea line 
is still adhered to. A variation w^as attempted many years ago, and 
the line was marked in such a way that no two marks were the 
same. Old sailors will know if this method was ever adopted. As 
it is, the marks need experience and memory to call out. Three, 
five, and seven fathoms are marked the same as thirteen, fifteen, 
and seventeen. The manner of heaving the hand lead is full of 
marine color, and furnishes a singularly picturesque item 1o the 
general appearance of the sailing-ship. A man stands in the chains 
leaning in a breast rope or band. In one hand he holds the coil of 
line, in the other the lead, which he heaves forward wilh fine sym- 
pathetic touch, instantly feeling the contact, and delivering in a 
wild, songlike note the depth of water he finds. Perhaps for the 
completeness of such a scene you require thickish weather, the ves- 
sel close-hauled under easy sail, breaking the water sluggishly from 
her bows, captain and officers on the poop or quarter-deck eagerly 
listening to the raven-like cry that rises from under the side, send- 
ing at the same time penetrating glances to right and left. For here 
they are in soundings that have shoaled to twelve or fourteen fath- 
oms. They guess, perhaps with perfect accuracy, the ship’s where- 
abouts, but they dare not reckon themselves sure, and so, with ex- 
treme caution, they grope their way along foot by foot, praying for 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


63 


the thickness to settle away that some blessed pilot-boat may heave 
in sight and dismiss them below for dry togs with restful minds. 

The heaving of the deep-sea lead is a more laborious and compli- 
cated matter. The vessel’s way is deadened; one man stands in the 
bows with the lead, and others are ranged along the side. Each 
man holds a coil of the line in his hand. When all is ready the 
order is given to “ Heave!” The man who holds the lead drops it, 
singing out “ Watch, there! watch,” as an intimation to the next 
man to look out. The cry is repeated by one man after another as 
the ” fakes ” fall from his hand. When the lead strikes bottom the 
officer marks the indication; the line is then whipped into a snatch- 
block and hauled in by the men and coiled away ready for imme- 
diate use. There is always a degree of excitement in this* heaving 
of the deep-sea lead. You get a cast in coming into soundings, arid 
lively is the general joy among a ship’s company who have been 
many months away from home, when the hoarse, peculiar cry of 
“ Watch ho! watch!” terminates in the lead striking English 
gi’ound. 

It is a strange intimation of home being at hand, this bringing 
up of sand or shells from a depth of six or eight hundred feet upon 
the arming of the lead. In truth. Jack’s method of finding out 
where he is, not by the eyes- or the nose, but by dropping a weight 
overboard, is entirely his own, and under no other conditions of 
life is there demanded this marine practice of feeling for home, or 
for his situation, by holding the end of a line as the spider lives 
along its thread and has touch of the whole machinery by a fore- 
finger laid upon one silken length. 

There was a talk some time ago of the invention of a compass 
designed to act electrically upon the rudder, so that, a course being 
set, a ship would steer it herself and keep her head true. I fancy 
that a man need not know much about the sea to feel that if marine 
inventors are going to exercise their genius in such directions as 
this the sooner they turn their attention to the land, and the re- 
quirements of people living on shore, the better it will be for per- 
sons who, when they embark on a voyage, do so with a desire 1 o 
reach their destination in safety. It seems to me that the utmost 
caution should be exercised in the adoption of contrivances at sea 
whose tendency is to lighten the demands upon the seaman’s judg- 
ment and experience, and induce a habit of carelessness by accus- 
toming him to repose faith in inventions which, as man’s handi- 
work, ought under no circumstances to be implicitly confided in. 
It is evident, at all events, that the sailor sees this pretty clearly, 


64 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


for, as I have already pointed out, though you give him twenty 
patent sounding-machines, and twenty patent self-registering logs 
to carry to sea with him, he will take good care not to sail away 
without the old reel and the old lead. 

The reel- log is the ancient instrument for determining the actual 
speed of a ship at the moment of passing through the water, by 
measuring the distance she runs in a given time. That time is 
usually twenty-eight seconds,^ and this is measured by sand in a 
glass. It is a plain rule-of- three sum. You say, if a ship will sail 
or steam over 6080 feet, or one nautical mile, in one hour, how many 
'eet will she pass over in twenty eight seconds. The answer being 
found, you measure'the line off to it, passing a piece of stuff through 
the strands with one knot tied in it for the first measurement, an- 
other piece of stuff with two knots tied in it for the second measure- 
ment, and so on for as many knots as may be deemed necessary. 
At the end of the line there is sometimes attached a cone-shaped 
bag of canvas, sometimes a semi-circular piece of wood; a peg is 
fitted in, that the bag or wood may fall square and hold water. 
This is then thrown overboard; a certain amount of line called stray 
is tossed over, so that the bag or piece of wood ma}’; veer clear of 
the wake. Then, when the mark indicating where the first knot is 
measured from on the line comes to the officer’s hand he cries to 
the man who holds the sand-glass, “ Turn?” and continues to help 
the line off the reel while the sand runs The instant the glass is 
out the man who holds it cries ” Stop!” The officer checks the line, 
ascertains the speed by looking at the nearest mark, and the line is 
then reeled up, the peg being dragged out of the bag or piece of 
wood by a jerk, which enables the man to haul the line in with 
comparative ease.f 

No one will question the unwieldiness of this process. Under 
any circumstances heaving the log demands three persons, but 
there are times,, when the ship is sailing fast, and when in conse- 
quence a great deal of line goes overboard, when it is as much as 
three or four men cah do to drag the thin, cutting, slippery log-line 
in, while a fourth or fifth, pressing the log-reel against the rail, 
winds the stuff up. Yet, clumsy as it is, with all the ponderosity 
and heavy-handedness of the ideas of the antique sea-dog in it, it is 
by the majority of sailors relied upon still as no patent is. The 

* Very often fourteen seconds. 

+ This log is regularly hove on board many steamers and nearly all, if, in- 
deed, not all, sailing-vessels. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


65 


rotating logs are excellent. They tell you how far you have run in 
a given time, and there are patent deck-logs which will tell you how 
fast you are actually passing through the water, by your calculating 
the movement of the index hand by your watch. Nevertheless, 
with the rotating log towing in the water on the port quarter, and a 
deck-log dragging a fin after it on the starboard quarter. Jack still 
heaves the old-fashioned log of his grandsires, still clings to it, still 
understands that there is nolhing automatic which can possibly 
provide the same security furnished by those first simple principles 
the application of which must be by the mariner himself. 

The sea is heaving like quicksilver to the sun, wliile here and 
there, from either bow or on either beam, a solitary flying-fish 
breaks from the gleaming surface and trembles along its short and 
aimless flight, striking the brow of a light swell, and vanishing in 
the silken side of it, like a shaft of mother-of-pearl glowing with 
prismatic hues, when I come on deck and find fair on the port bow 
the towering island of Teneriffe, with Gomera looming to star- 
board, massive in its sandlike tints and its shades of slate and green 
and gray. It was not my first sight of the famous peak by many; 
yet 1 found a fascination as of perfect novelty in that noble, heaven- 
searching altitude of volcanic rock. The dim browns and greens 
of the island rose faint and fainter yet to the masses of vapor — some 
colored by the forbidding darkness of the electric storm, some 
radiant as steam to the white shining of the early sun — which boiled 
about the summits and obscured the mighty topmost eminence. 
Under those clouds which lay blackest the white waters of the sea 
breaking at the base in high and savage leapings of foam were as 
spectral as froth seen at night-time. At moments the peak emerged, 
distinguishable from the fleecy clouds which were wreathed about 
the summits by the fairy-like solidity of its outline, which, being 
.snow-clad, glanced like a cone of frosted silver. It came and went;' 
but every time it came there was a murmur from the many groups 
watching it, with a cry or two of admiration and an eager pointing 
to it. 

You needed some lofty man-of-war close into the island to measure 
to the admiration the wonder of that sublime pinnacle. A painter 
will put a human figure into his picture to illustrate dimensions; 
and to the passing spectator of Teneriffe nothing I think would so 
fitly mark the magnitude of this noble, cloud-crowned ocean rock 
as some great ship of war at anchor close in; a vessel whose trucks, 
from her decks, would seem to brush the stars as she rolled. The 
island vivifies in tint as we bring it abeam. It may be eight or ten 
3 


66 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


miles off; 3’^el so brilliant is the breaking of the foam against the 
long, natural terrace to the left, that you seem to catch faintly the 
thunder of those weltering masses of water, just as you fancy that 
you hear stealing up, gusty and moaning against the breeze, the 
mutterings of a thunder-storm, without wind, in the sullen, sootish 
vapor gathered black in the great hollow, above which the clouds 
rise white and whiter, till they melt and leave in clear and sun- 
touched configuration the famous and sublime peak standing out 
with tender, moonlike radiance against the morning azure above 
and bej’^ond,* 

The coast of Africa was tolerably close aboard. Cape Oorbeiro 
bearing about eighteen miles distant, when there happened a little 
incident whose interest lay purely and simply in its suggestiveness. 
The water was a dead level of brilliant calm, and our steamer at 
noon headed straight down the burning wake of the sun that 
streamed from the horizon to her stem like a path formed of new 
tin, fiery with white and scorching needle-like points of light. On 
either hand of this wake you saw the ocean broken in hues by long, 
serpentine lines of current, pale as starlight in its contrast with the 
ocean tints, which seemed to rise like liquid dyes out of the depths 
in folds of color to the shining surface. Here and there were ole- 
aginous patches, whale spawn probably, with a little flock or two 
of Mother Carey’s chickens floating in the thick of them. The 
flying-fish whisked out dark to the sun on wings of silver gossamer, 
and on the quarter was the black, wet fin of a shark. 

Suddenly a sail was made out on the port bow, and before long 
we had it close enough to discover that it was a schooner riding to 
her anchor with mainsail hoisted. As we approached we observed 
a boat crowded with men obviously making for us by heading, as 
it were, to cross our hawse, and pulling as hard as they could drag 
upon their oars. Curiosity was excited. What could they want? 
Were they short of water? That seemed improbable, with the land 
within a comparatively easy pull. Yet one could not forget that 
that land was Africa, whose arid soil' and burning sands rolled for 
leagues down to the sea, waterless. Who could tell, besides, for 
how many days the calm we were steaming through had reigned in 

* “ The pike of TeDeriff— how high is it?” asks old Robert Burton in his “ Di- 
gression of Ayre;” ” 79 miles high, or 52, asPatrjcius holds, or 9, as Snellius de- 
monstrates in his ‘ Eratosthenes ’ ?” We moderns do not seem much more re- 
solved on this matter; for I have seen the altitude of the Peak variously stated 
at figures ranging from 8300 to 12,200 feet. The ascent from Oratawa, at the 
base, is within twelve miles. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


67 


this place? ’Twas difficult to realize stagnation on the deck of a 
flying steamer; hut then I, with experience slender when compared 
with those of others, could recollect a spell of three weeks near to 
the Line of absolute calm; with never more in all that time than a 
mocking breath of cat’s-paw frosting the horizon and dying out 
long before it had neared the ship. 

The fellows rowed vigorously; there was too much energy indeed 
in the flourishing of their shining blades to suggest enfeeblement 
and physical distress; though, to be sure, despair will give a hand 
of iron to the limb of a dying man. Conjecture, however, was 
soon set at rest by a black-faced fellow crowned with a red night- 
cap standing up in the bows and waving, with Spanish contortions, 
an immense fish that looked like a huge Dogger Bank cod. The 
schooner was a Spanish fisherman, and that boat-load of men on 
sighting the steamer had shoved off and rowed for a long half hour 
with all their might under a burning sun, in the hope of selling a 
basket of fish to us! 'What notions had they, I wonder, of the 
obligations of the mail-room, and of sea-captains’ consuming love 
of dispatch? Did they suppose that my friend Travers was going 
to stop his engines for the sake of a meal of boiled and fried fish? 
Yet the sight was a picturesque one, and mighty suggestive. The 
schooner was a fine craft of possibly a hundred tons. Her topmasts 
were on deck, but her lower masts had a good rake. Her bows 
rose in a long, dominating, defiant sheer, and her Hues went aft in 
a low, sneaking, piratical length of side that brought her stern well 
down. The people in her boat made you think of the Spanish Main 
and the old black flag. They looked as complete a set of ruffians 
as any writer of boys’ stories could desire to depict; yet I dare say 
they were all perfectly honest men. The mahogany faces, with 
black beards, gleaming eyes, and a profusion of ringlets falling 
over their ears, which were w'eighed down with earrings, were all 
to a man- bent in a savage sort of way upon us, and their attire 
filled the sight with a score of colors. There was a large ship’s 
company iu that boat; yet, as if to mark their numbers, when we 
were abreast of the schooner, a second boat, loaded with just such 
another set of beauties, shoved off from her, possibly to fish with 
lines. Now, thought I to myself, as I leaned over the rail watch- 
ing the schooner and her boats, by turning back the world’s history 
through a chapter or two one might find a fine significance in such 
a spectacle as this. Steam has done for the ocean what the locomo- 
tive has done for the highway; and the marine Dick Turpin long 
ago took his last Harrison-Ainsworth-like gallop. But I confess 


68 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


that the meaning of the old chronicles came upon me with a violent 
sense of reality while I stood looking at that schooner with her 
picaroonish sheer and rake, and at those boats filled with men 
whose attire and features made them perfectly resemble blood- 
thirsty rogues. Figure that vessel out there a corsair, and our ship 
a rich Indiaman which the faint airs of the night had languidly 
driven into this sphere of stagnation, and within sight of the beauty 
yonder. Of course the schooner would have a terrible Long Tom 
snug on the forecastle. Twelve or twent3''-four pounders would 
peep, tompion-out, from her ports, and her bulwarks would be 
garnished by brass pieces. Cutlasses, hangers, muskets, and pistols 
with immensely long barrels would complete the sinister apparel of 
the boat-loads of desperadoes heading to board the Indiaman fore 
and aft. Imagine the flutter among the ladies under the white 
awnings of the stately ship that lies as dead upon the sea as did the 
vessel in Coleridge’s “ Ancient Mariner!” Think of the hurried 
preparations to receive the scoundrels, who must certainly have 
their throats cut if the crew and passengers of the Indiaman are to 
escape the plank or the poniard! The carronades are loaded, Jack 
strips himself to his trousers, small anus are liberally handed 
around, the ladies are sent below, and the battle begins! 

But long before the imagination has brought the excitement to 
this point, our whirling propeller has swept the schooner far down 
upon the quarter, and the red-capped crowd in the boat, that is now 
a mere speck on the verge of our fan-shaped wake, are doggedly- 
making their way back to their little vessel. 

It is, indeed, a calm of the kind we are speeding through that 
establishes more strongly than any other differences that can be 
noted, the contrast between the ocean passenger steamship and the 
sailing-vessel. Ships are not likely to be found where we are, 
whether homeward or outward bound. The}" are many leagues 
further to the westward. Yet to compensate one for the destruc- 
tion of the marine idealism which the sailing-vessel inspires and 
perpetuates — for that sense of destruction, I mean, one gets while 
thinking of the beauty of a full-rigged ship when one is on board a 
steamer, driving through if with naked masts — it would have fur- 
nished a satisfactory incident to have met and passed a sailing- 
vessel in this profound calm. The picture is, indeed, easily con- 
structed. Conceive her with her painted ports reflected in the 
burnished water that brims like oil to her black, hot sides. When 
she first comes into sight her canvas shows like a rising star against 
the blue; but she grows with marvelous rapidity to our speed of 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


69 


fourteen knots, and, as if by magic, she stands up before us fair on 
the bow, a full-rigged ship, with her head slewed round in the 
breathless atmosphere to any point of the compass you like to name, 
her courses hauled up, her spanker in, all staysails down, and her 
vane a dead, red rag at the main-royal masthead — 

“ By her tall and triple masts we know 
Some noble voyager that has to woo 
The trade winds, and to stem the ‘ ecliptic ’ surge. 

The coral groves, the shores of conch and pearl, 

Where she will cast her anchor and reflect 

Her cabin lights on warmer waves 

And under planets brighter than our own,” 

Her mate stands near the main-rigging with moistened finger lifted 
to catch the direction of a draught of air that breathes only in his 
hope. The skipper right aft w’^atches our thunderous passage with 
folded arms. The passengers in a group at the side fix a languish- 
ing gaze upon us as we go roaring by, with the plumes in our 
ladies’ hats blowing, their dresses rippling, the awming shaking to 
the strong, refreshing wind raised b}' our noble progress. Jack, 
perched on some yardarm, or at work on the flying jibboom, or 
hanging on somewhere aloft by his eyelids, as his custom is, drops 
whatever job he may be upon for a moment to stare at the great 
iron palace that is rushing by in a boiling caldron of her own mak 
ing, and after a thoughtful mastication of his quid expectorates in 
a dubious manner, as if he could not make up his mind, and then 
resumes his w^ork. 

But such contrasts of ocean life must be mainly left to fancy in a 
voyage to the Cape. Happy, it is said, is the nation that has no 
history, and happy is the marine journey that is uneventful. Bar- 
renness is the rule now^adays, in steamers at all events; and since 
the hour when w^e put Madeira over our stern we have encountered 
nothing but blue and brilliant skies, sleeping seas, an island or tw'o 
of grand and impressive beauty, and air and breezes so pure, so 
exhilarating, so vitalizing, that life to her innermost sources feels the 
subtle influence, and confesses the magic with merry laughter, with 
bright eyes, and a keen delight in the mere circumstance of ex- 
istence. 


70 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE BARK “PERTHSHIRE.” 

Seated aft one day in the twilight of the awning, in company 
with a passenger who had passed some years of his boyhood at sea, 

I fell to talking to him about the surprises of the ocean, the wizard- 
like power of the deep of transforming the most prosaic of its in- 
terests into circumstances filled with the astonishments of tragedy, 
with wonders of human endurance, with the moving poetry of 
noble pathetic romance. My companion said he could give me an 
illustration of the surprises of the deep, and, without further ado, 
started thus: 

“ A few days before embarking in this vessel I spent an evening 
with a nautical friend — a very entertaining little man, in no sense a 
sea dog. In appearance, and perhaps in dress, he might pass as a 
clerk who has grown elderly in the service of a bank. There is 
little in hhn of the bronzed salt who, as Dana says, habited in flow- 
ing breeches and tarpaulin hat, swings his dark and toughened 
hands athwartships as he rolls along his walk, with the fingers 
curled as though they yet grasped a rope. However, it is not neces- 
sary to be long in ni}’- friend’s company to discover that he has 
been a sailor. In truth, he used the sea for too many years not to 
exhibit, in forms more or less subtle, many of those characteristics 
by which sailors, and more especially seamen of the old school, are 
distinguished, such as a grave plainness of manner, a frank, self- 
unconscious openness of gaze, a certain heartiness and earnestness of 
speech, the more marked, perhaps, for a lively relish of small and 
artless humor. His story was this, and I will tell it in his own 
language as closely as my memory permits : 

“ ‘ In the year 1854 — a memorable year for the British merchant 
sailor, as you may know by looking at the date of that voluminous 
act of Parliament which concerns us — I had command of a clipper 
ship, named the “ Desdemona,” We were bound for Calcutta with 
a general cargo, and the incident I am about to relate happened in 
the Indian Ocean. We had accommodation for six passengers, but 
only shipped two, one being an old, yellow-faced planter, the big- 
gest grumbler who ever sapped on board a vessel, a siirly, long- 
faced swab, with gaunt cheek-bones standing up under his eyes. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


71 


and the eye& themselves sunk so deep that it was wonderful he was 
able to see anything with them except the objects that stood plump 
in front of him. He had found a cheap berth in our ship, cheap, 
that is, in comparison with the cost of a passage tcTlndia in those 
days in one of the regular liners. Yet he expected as much as if 
ours had been a Company’s ship, full of cooks and bakers and 
stewards, and as warm with live stock. The other passenger was a 
young man named Simmouds, a pleasant fellow, full of amusing 
stories, willing to lend a hand anywhere and to make the best of 
whatever happened. Mr. Simmonds had been at sea for a short 
time, and then knocked off and tried his hand at something ashore, 
which failing, he succeeded in obtaining some post out in India — 
what it was I can not remember after all these years, nor does it 
matter. An uncle of his had commanded a fine Indiaman, and had 
been lost in her. He also told me that a brother of his w^as chief 
mate of a vessel named the “ Perthshire;” a little bark, he .said she 
was, hailing from some Scotch port, and at tlnit time making the 
passage to Rangoon, as he believed, she having left the Clyde two 
weeks or so before the “ Desdemona ” sailed. Thus, to an extent, 
his sympathies were with the sea, and this helped me and my offi- 
cers, I have no doubt, to find him the jolly good fellow we thought 
him. 

' ‘ ‘ There was no fault to be found with my little vessel. I had 
charge of ships before, but this was my first experience of the 
“ Desdemona.” She had more beam than a sailor of a later day 
than mine would dream of associating with the word clipper, yet 
the stability that her breadth between bulwarks gave her furni.shed 
her with heels that a slimmer ship could only have rivaled under 
certain conditions of weather, I have been carrying a main-royal 
when on a bow-line, and passed ve.ssels half as big again, bowed 
down to their covering boards by a maintop-gallantsail and single- 
reefed topsail. We had the old-fashioned channels, but though she 
was pretty deep, ’twas rare for the old ” Desdemona ” to drag them. 
■With her painted ports, black and somewhat heavy tops, and short 
royal mastheads, she had the look of one of the old-fashioned cor- 
vettes, and I remember two vessels in one week “ dipping ” to us 
under some confused impression, I suppose, that we 'were a man-of- 
war, though I don’t know, I am sure, in what part of us aloft they 
could have searched for the coach- whip. The crew seemed a tidy 
body of men, all of them Europeans, and most of them English- 
men. They did their work with the average smartne.ss you get out 
of merchant seamen 'who have never been taught to skip. And so, 


72 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


sir, we sailed along until "we entered the Indian Ocean, and arrived 
at that part of it where the extraordinary circumstance I am about 
to relate to you happened. 

“ ‘ There had been a fresh breeze blowing all night, but it failed 
before day-break, and wdien the sun rose there was scarcely enough 
of it to keep the light sails full. It was a brilliant, splendid morn- 
ing, the sun coming up into a cloudless sk}’', and the sea drew to 
the ship f lit from the southward in a soft heaving, with nothing 
but flashing glory over the starboard cal -head, and the horizon run- 
ning out of it into the westward in a circle that was like crystal 
against the blue there. The watch were washing down when I 
came on deck. There was a fellow going aloft forward on some job 
the mate had set him to. I took, a look around, but saw nothing. 
Presently the man who was up in the fore-topmast cross-trees, or 
.higher, hailed the deck and reported a white object in sight two or 
three points on the lee bow. I crossed the deck to have a look, and 
seeing nothing, fetched the glass and leveled it in the direction the 
man had indicated. Nothing appearing in the lens, I handed the 
telescope to the mate, and asked him to mount a‘ few ratlines and 
see if he could make out what the object was. I w^atched him work- 
ing his way, and pointing the glass as he went to half the height of 
the lower shrouds, when he suddenl}" stopped, and after taking a 
prolonged squint, he called to me that the object was a ship’s boat 
apparently, but whether v’itli occupants or not he couldn’t tell. I 
told the man at the wheel to keep the ship away, and Mr. Simmonds 
then coming on deck, I joined him in a walk, and this went on till 
breakfast-time, at which hour the boat, if it was a boat, was sheer 
on the horizon, just \’isible from the deck. The man who had 
sighted her must have had wonderful eyes, but no doubt it was the 
boat’s sail shining in the sun that had caught his sight; ^'•et when I 
looked at her through the glass before going below to breakfast the 
sail had been lowered, whereupon I gathered that there must be liv- 
ing beings in her, and I presumed, of course, by her dropping her 
sail, that she meant to wait for us to pick her up. 

When I came on deck I found that the boat was almost right 
over the bows. I looked at the compass, and observed that the ship 
had been brought very nearly to her course again. 

‘ ‘ " I don’t quite make out that boat’s maneuverings, ” said the 
second mate to me; “ I’ve been w^atching her while you were be- 
low, sir, and the whole while the people in her have been rowing 
with a steady stroke dead to wind’ard.” 

I picked up the glass, and found it to be as the second mate 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


73 


liad said. Tlie boat in the lens was clear enough, and the regular 
flashing and fading of sparks of light against her side showed the 
movement of oars. I could not imagine why she should want to 
get to windward of us, seeing that by her remaining where we had 
first sighted her she would be very'easily picked up. They kept 
crawling steadily into the wind, and I, bent on finding out what her 
meaning might be, luffed the ship till the yards were braced sharp 
up. This found her again dead ahead. She was then about a mile 
and a half distant. The men in her were distinctly visible now. I 
counted eight. They mustered five oars, and kept them going. A 
sixth man steered, a seventh crouched in the bows, and the eightli 
stood up against the mast watching us under the shadow of his 
hand. The draught was so light, and their boat sneaked along so 
nimbly, that to fetch her we should have needed to go about, per- 
haps only to lose her after several boards; but shortly after five bells 
in the morning watch the wind puffed up about east-south-east, 
which enabled us to haul in upon the weather-braces, and head 
dead for the boat. I watched her narrowly, and observed that so 
soon as the wind shifted, and they saw that we were heading for 
them, they tlirew in their oars and waited for us to come. AVe 
drove slowly along, and were presently close to them. 

‘ She was a ship’s boat, apparently a long-boat, 1 brought the 
ship to the wind when she was within hail, and sung out to know 
what they were doing adrift there, and if they wanted us to receive 
them aboard. The fellow I had noticed standing up against the 
mast watching under his hand seemed to be in charge, and at all 
events was spokesman. He was a young man of about thirty, with 
a burned face, but fair, dressed in good clothes, and on the whole a 
comely, well-looking young fellow. The others had the appear- 
ance, most of them at all events, of being foreigners. They were 
swarthy and black-bearded, dressed in the wild clothes of the mer- 
chantman’s forecastle, one or two of them with ear-rings, all of 
them with knives in their belts. The boat seemed deeper than the 
mere weight of the men should have made her, but it was impossi- 
ble to see what she was stocked with. 

“ ‘ On my hailing her, as I have told ^mu, the man who stood up 
replied that they wanted no assistance. “ AVe belonged to a vessel 
namdri the ‘Eagle,’” he cried out; “a little brig that foundered 
two days ago, through a started butt, or something of that kind. 
The master and three men stayed aboard, meaning to leave her in 
another boat. I washer chief mate, and we’re now bound for Mad- 
agascar. Tliis boat’s a tighter vessel than the brig, and we feel 


74 


A TOY AGE TO THE CAPE. 


perfectly safe ia lier after the sort of timbers we've been used to be- 
tween us and the bottom.” 

“ ‘ At this several of his companions laughed aloud. I looked at 
them suspiciously, but it was not for me to meddle. If they re- 
fused help that was their business, though I never doubted for a 
moment that their refusal was based on some motive which, if it 
could be got at. might be found to hold a very desperate meaning. 
As they declined assistance I contented myself with a wave of the 
hand to them; but when we filled on the ship I took another long 
look at them through the glass, and then handed it to Mr. Sim- 
monds, asking him if. he could see anything resembling a ship’s 
name painted upon the boat. Like myself he saw nothing, but as 
he put down the glass he said to me that some of them looked an 
ugly set of ruffians, and that he shouldn’t be surprised if behind 
their being adrift and declining assistance there lay a foul and terri- 
ble secret. 

” When 1 filled on the vessel they hoisted their lug. If they were 
heading for Madagascar they seemed to know how to steer for it. 
The boat’s course was about north-west by north. I took note of 
that at the time, and found her still so heading, when, after a little, 
she was only just visible through the glass. 

” ‘We talked a good deal about her and her people during the 
day, and the yellow-faced, grumbling planter insisted that it was 
my duty to have boarded her, or have brought her men aboard and 
questioned them. 

“ ‘ ” Yes,” I said, “ that would unquestionably have been my 
duty had the ‘ Desdemona ’ been a man-of-war, but, as we were 
only a small sailing-ship, the utmost I could be expected to do was 
to offer assistance, and proceed on my voyage if help was declined. ” 

“ ‘ The breeze freshened before noon, and when I made eight 
bells our speed was about five knots, the water smooth, and the ship 
under starboard stunsails. It was somewhere near three o’clock 
when a sail was sighted dead ahead. As she drew plainer into sight 
it was noticed that she lay hove-to. I looked for a color, but could 
see nothing of the kind. It was reasonable, of course, to infer, by 
her having her maintopsail aback in such weather as this, that she 
W'us in trouble, and, having -sighted us coming along had hove to to 
speak us. She was a little bark, and closer inspection discovered an 
air of confusion aloft. Her mainsail was hauled up, the foretop- 
sail yard on the cap, while the topgallant yard remained hoisted. 
The outer jib halyards had l)een lot go, and the sail had run half- 
way down the stay and there stuck. Other features that I need not 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


75 


trouble you by describiug made her look terribly adrift, and the 
suspicion that there was something more than wrong with her was 
confirmed by the appearance of her hull, that was much deeper in 
the water, with a cock- up of the bows forward, than it was conceiv- 
able her cargo would have brought her. Many wonderful things 
happen at sea, and I had seen loo much in that way myself to con- 
clude right away that the men we had encountered in the morning 
belonged to that sinking bark. But I say, it looked uncommonly 
like as if that were the case. 

“ ‘ I turned to the mate and Mr. Simmonds, and said to them, 
“ It seems to me as if we’d tumbled upon those fellows’ secret. If 
that yonder isn’t a case of scuttling, I’m an Egyptian.” 

‘‘‘We approached the bark, all hands staring at her with all 
their eyes, and once again I brought the “ Desdemona ” to the wind. 
The vessel was derelict. I hailed her several times, but gbt no an- 
swer from her. We had approached her in such a manner that her 
counter was hidden from us. There were few or no name-boards 
in those days. But when we rounded to we got a stern view of 
her, and then it was that Mr. Simmonds, grasping my arm, ex- 
claimed in a low voice, “ Good God, captain, observe her name!” 

‘‘ ‘ I looked and read the word “ Perthshire,” coming out in 
staring white letters plain enough with every lift of her stern. For 
a moment or two I couldn’t understand the agitation in him until it 
flashed upon me, and I cried out, “ Perthshire! why that was your 
brother’s vessel, wasn’t it?” 

“ ‘ He said, speaking with great excitement, ‘‘ Yes; and she was a 
little bark, just such another as that. There’s no doubt of her. 
She’s the ‘ Perthshire ’ that Henry sailed in. Why, if that boat’s 
crew we met this morning belonged to her, a lie was told right off 
b}’’ that sandy fellow calling himself chief mate. For God’s sake, 
captain, let us board her before she founders.” 

‘‘ ‘ I was quite willing to do so, and a boat being lowered, he and 
I rowed over to the derelict. We got aboard, and the first thing we 
saw was the body of a man with his head beaten in lying in the 
companion. He had a pistol in his hand, and I took him to be the 
master of the ship. A black seaman lay dead near the galley. We 
went into the cabin, and in the first berth we looked into we found 
a man lying dead with a terrible wound in his throat. He was 
half-clad, and what he wore was in rags, and there were other signs 
which I can not mention to you of a prolonged and frightful strug- 
gle. At the sight of him, Mr. Simmonds raised a terrible cry, clap- 
ping his hands to his heart and reeling up against me. It was his 


76 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


brotiier who lay before him; and I think the shock and astonishment 
of tlie whole thing, the sights I witnessed, coupled with this mar- 
velous coming across of one brother by another, would have held 
me rooted to the cabin deck like a petrified man, if it had not been 
far the sudden gush and wash and yearning sound of water close 
up against the ceiling, warning enough to my ears, as you may 
^mppose, that the vessel might founder at any instant. So, as all 
delay was out of the question, and as even a child might have 
known that the man stretclied before us was as dead as clay can be, 

I dragged Mr. Simmonds on deck, the poor fellow weeping bitterly, 
got him into the boat, and returned to the “ Desdemona.” 

“ ‘ Well, 1 may as well say here that, half an hour after we had 
left the “ Perthshire,” she went down; but by this time my resolu- 
tion, fortified by the entreaties of Mr. Simmonds and the execra- 
tions of the gaunt-faced planter, w^as formed, and my ship was head- 
ing fair, as I reckoned it to be, for the spot where we hoped to sight 
and overhaul the long-boat. It might prove a waste of time, and 
delay the voyage; but I was determined to take my chance of that. 
The sight of those three murdered men, with, perhaps, objects as 
dreadful to behold in the forecastle, had set my blood boiling. Who 
could doubt that the boat we had met with in the morning held the 
mutineers and murderers! Small wonder they desired to give us a 
wide berth, guessing, as they must have done, that we were pretty 
well bound to fall in with the abandoned bark if We held on as we 
then were. 

“ ‘ I never went to bed all that night, neither did Mr. Simmonds, 
nor the growling planter, nor my two mates. I knew the course 
the boat had taken, and was quite sure of overhauling her, for the 
wind that headed us would head her too, and if it came to ratching 
it should be in short boards. The breeze freshened toward morn- 
ing. The weather had been bright and clear all night, and I prom- 
ise you a sharp lookout had been kept. When the dawn came I 
sent a man on to the royal-yard with the glass, the same fellow 
that had sighted the boat the morning before, but he could see 
nothing. It was blowing a middling fresh wind, just enough to 
keep our fore and mizzen royals furled, but when the dawn came I 
shortened sail to the main-topgallant-sail, with the mainsail hanging 
in the buntlines, for it wouldn’t do to pass the boat. This went on 
till ten o’clock, when I saw another man I had sent aloft with the 
glass working away with it at something dead to windward, and 
then he yells down in a voice of triumph, “ Sail ho! The long-boat 
unmistakably abeam there!” I sprung aloft myself to make sure. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


77 


The man was perfectly right. The boat’s lug sliding in and out of 
the seas wasn’t to be mistaken for anything else. She was going 
through it close hauled, and I began to fear that if there didn’t 
come a shift of wind the cdiase would prove a long one, whatever 
might come of it. 

“ ‘ I kept a man at the masthead to hold her in sight, then put 
the ship about, and kept a half-hour’s ratch on the port tack. This 
brought our canvas within view of her, when we went about again, 
and they seemed to guess our game as if by instinct, for very soon 
after we had boarded our foretack the chap aloft sung out that the 
boat had gone about. Well, what maneuverings followed you will 
hardly requii'e me to tell you. ’Twas tack and tack with us and 
with the boat, for you see she was so small we durstn’t venture 
upon a long ratch for fear that while we were heading away to 
wind’ard she would put her helm up and run, showing a cloth or 
two, just enough to keep her going, but not enough for us to see. 
However, as you may suppose, it was impossible she could have 
escaped us as a matter of sailing. But the afternoon coming on, 
the breeze freshened, and it drew up a trifle thick, so that we lost 
sight of her, and as I knew they were smart enough to take ad- 
vantage of this, and as, moreover, evening was fast approaching, I 
felt we should do no good by continuing the pursuit; so taking no 
notice of the planter’s denunciations of me for my want of resolu- 
tion, nor of Mr. Simmonds’s looks, which were full of reproaches, I 
shifted the helm for our proper port, between ourselves feeling not 
a little relieved when I found the “ Desdemona ” heading true for 
Calcutta. 

“ ‘ For the fact is, during the chase I had had plenty of time for 
reflection, and for dwelling upon a consideration I had overlooked in 
the first hurry of my temper and horror; which was: Supposing we 
came up to the boat, what, should we do? It was certain the merr 
were not likely to come aboard of themselves. It would have been 
murder to have run them down, even if we had been cock-sure 
that they belonged to the bark, and deserving hanging or drowning. 
We had no guns aboard, nothing that we could have brought to 
bear upon them, and threatened to sink them with if they didn’t 
step over the side quietly; and even if we had had guns the law, no 
doubt, would have held me guilty of murder if I had fired at the 
boat and drowned the people for refusing to obey my orders. Con- 
sequently there would have been nothing for us but to lower one of 
our own boats and send a portion of our crew to make prisoners of 
the men. Would our crew have consented? I don’t reckon they 


78 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


would. Supposing they had been willing, and the others had al- 
lowed them to come alongside, there must have been a murderous 
fight, amid an ugly sea heavy enough to capsize both boats and 
drown all hands with anything resembling a struggle going on in 
them. I name only a few of the difficulties 1 foresaw, mainly to 
account for the satisfaction with which I squared away for our 
proper port. The planter refused to take my view, and said he 
would have been glad to command any boat I had chosen to send 
against the mutineers, as he called them. Such talk, of course, 
was cheap when the occasion for testing his bravery was gone. Mr. 
Simmonds agreed with me when he heard my arguments, but he 
was dreadfully affected, poor fellow. The shock had been more 
than his strength was equal to, and he was not only ill for the n st 
of the voyage, but, as I afterward heard, continued so for a long 
time after his arrival in India. I duly reported the circumstance, 
and hoped to hear of the boat being picked up, but, though I was 
careful to make inquiries, I never could succeed in learning more of 
this business; whence I conclude that the people in the boat had 
perished.’ 


CHAPTER VIII. 
new-year’s-eve at SEA. 

Sea life has few prettier sights to offer than the celebration of 
divine service on board a large passenger steamer. In fine weather 
service will often be held on deck, and the picture is never so com- 
plete as when the deep blue water heaves to the horizon from either 
side under the awning, when the captain, bare-headed, takes his 
stand at the table or capstan covered with the ensign, and when 
the white deck is thronged with sailors and passengers, reverent in 
attitude and hearty in voice, offering a hundred varieties of counte- 
nance in the shaded atmosphere through which the breeze, raised 
by the motion of the vessel, hums pleasantly. In the “ Tartar,” 
service was conducted regularly in the saloon. You had not, in- 
deed, the peculiar effects you get from open air; yet when all were 
gathered together it was a spectacle to impress the most superficial 
observer, for beams of the morning sun shone through the large 
open windows, putting a thousand white stars into the silver lamps 
and flowing to the tranquil heaving of the ship in lines of rippling 
radiance upon the polished panels and upon everything bright and 
shining within the sphere of the rays. But these lines of luster left 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


79 


the shadows in places the darker, and you got many a diverse tint 
which the sobered effulgence under the awnings on deck would 
have toned into a unifonnity of hue. The ladies’ apparel stole out 
into tender and delicate dyes, for the beautification of the different 
lights and shadows in the saloon contrasts would also be strongly 
accentuated, such as the golden light seeming to hang like a nimbus 
about some pretty girl’s fair head, with the wrinkled, burned face 
of an old sailor beyond showing through it, ringlets upon his fore- 
head, a bushy beard standing out like the tail of a bird from his 
chin, and the traditional sourness of the elderly salt in the twist at 
the extremities of his mouth. The dress of the captain and his 
mates adds its glitter to this scene of shadow and shine, of many- 
colored dresses, of trembling feathers and twinkling jewelry. 

I have no great respect for so-called merchantmen’s uniforms. 
There is really no uniform outside that worn in her majesty’s ser- 
vice; the rest is livery, and I am always sorry to see a shipmaster 
and his mates figged out in as much gold and buttons as need go 
to the glorification of a beadle. The companies insist upon their 
officers habiting themselves in lace and twopenny finery about their 
■wrists, waistcoats, and caps, and all that a prejudiced man like myself 
can do is to accept the effect as pleasing to ladies, and to hope that 
Royal Navy men do not for a moment suppose that merchantmen 
masquerade in this garb of their own will and out of love for imi- 
tated feathers.* 

Captain Travers, with an edging of gilt to what a tailor would 
call his vest, in white trousers, rings round his sleeves, many but- 
tons upon his coat, and by his side a cap with a peak richly dec- 
orated with lace, very handsomely filled the head of one of the 

* It would be interesting to learn when merchantmen were first put into uni- 
form. Possibly the example was originally set by the East India Company. The 
“ uniform ” of a captain in that company consisted (full dress) of a blue coat, 
black velvet lapels, cuffs and collar, with a bright gold embroidery, “ as little 
expensive as may be:” waistcoat and breeches of deep buff; the buttons were of 
yellow gilt metal, wdth the company’s crest, cocked hats, side-arms ” to be 
worn under the coat,” and black stocks or neckcloths. The undress was formed 
of a blue coat with lapels, black collar and cuffs, waistcoat and breeches deep 
buff, and gilt buttons. But fashions change. Tins was probably the dress in 
the close of the last and the beginning of the present century. There may have 
been other costumes for earlier times. There is good reason, however, for sup- 
posing that, prior to 1748, there was no uniform dress worn at sea, either in the 
state or the mercantile service. In that year an advertisement was published 
ordering all sea-officers in the king’s service, from the admiral to the midship- 
man, to wear a uniformity of clothing, and pattern costumes were lodged at 
the Navy Office for inspection. 


80 


A VOTAC4E TO THE CAPE. 


many tables which ran the length of the saloon on both sides. 
Around him would be grouped his officers, four gentlemen in all, 
along with the ship’s doctor, whose costume, apparently identical 
with that of the mates, had its marine suggestions slightly qualified 
by the pair of spectacles through which the attentive medico gazed 
down upon the Prayer-book. Engineers, sailors, and firemen, the 
engineers in buttons, the others in flowing white trousers and blue 
shirts, made out a large portion of the scene that was completed by 
the passengers, first, second, and third. 

The first Sunday we were out there was some difficulty in pro- 
curing music for the hymns. We had, indeed, two pianos and a 
harmonium; so, as you will perceive, there was no lack of machin- 
ery for making a noise. But the captain was unable to find for 
some time anybody who could play theseJnstruments, and he came 
to me with a concerned face and said he didn’t know what he 
should do. It was the first time during his command of the vessel 
that the sailors would be obliged to sing without an accompaniment 
to help them along, and he feared that they wouldn’t like it, and 
that there would be a breakdown. However, at the last moment a 
young minister, who was making the voyage for the recovery of 
his voice, said he would see what he could do, and sat down to the 
harmonium and played over some hymn tunes to the satisfaction of 
an anxious crowd which had collected around him. A dark cloud 
slowly drawing off the moon was but a feeble image of the clear- 
ness of Captain Travers’s face. It was evident that Jack would 
not have taken kindly to a hymn had there been no music to en- 
courage him. The ship’s company seemed to appreciate the anxi- 
eties which had harassed the soul of their commander, for I never 
heard men sing so loudly and so heartily before. I must confess to 
an act of irreverence, too slight, I trust, not to be readily pardoned; 
I mean the half- smothered laugh that escaped me when the crew, 
arriving at the word “ holy,” sung ft, “ ’oly,” at the top of their 
pipes with a sort of triumphant emphasis that was like saying, 
” You’ll find no 7i’s in this hooker, my lad!” 

But for all this the services were very impressive. Let me detract 
nothing from the captain’s elocutionary powers, nor from the doc- 
tor’s high tenor notes, nor from the head steward’s fine ejaculatory 
capacity. Captain Travers read clearly and solemnly, and with the 
reverence you expect from a man who undertakes to deliver a sa- 
cred and heart-lifting message to his fellows. But that was not 
quite all; it was the thought of the great ocean stretching around; 
it was the voice of many waters, the rushing and seething sounds 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


81 


rising through the open windows and mingling their mysterious 
articulation with the notes of the singers or with the solitary voice 
of the commander; it was the sense of the infinite depth beneath 
the plowing share of our keel; it was the fancy of the littleness of 
the sound our united voices raised in the midst of that great soli- 
tude; these and a hundred other such considerations would enter 
into the service and communicate a character to it that made it a 
very different thing from the church celebration as we have it 
ashore. Always under-running the singing, trembling through the 
reader’s accents, pulsing hard in any interval of silence, was the 
throbbing of the engines. It was like the fevered, bounding heart 
of the great ship. Whatever you touched seemed as an artery for 
it. Far as the saloon was removed from the engine-room, you 
could not put your hand upon the back of a chair, you could not 
let it rest upon a table, you could not lean your head against the 
side, you could not feel with your foot upon the deck, but that the 
trembling of the restless iron heart in the depths beneath was sen- 
sible to you, and the ship appeared full of life-blood that coursed 
through everything you touched or pressed against. 

One Sunday morning, not feeling very well, I sat in the captain’s 
cabin on deck during service. At times I could hear the singing 
floating up through the open sk^dights; the ship was pitching 
somewhat heavily'", yet the voices of the people below rose above 
the storming and washing sounds of water flung in acres of daz- 
zling white from the vessel-bows; a canary in the captain’s cabin, 
hearing the voices, sung too; the engines occasionally raced, and 
the rattle of the masses of metal swept a vibration through the ship 
as though the hand of some mighty giant were upon her shaking 
her, the hissing noises caused by the hydraulic steering gear stole 
through the various sounds like the stealthy utterances of some im- 
mense snake. The mingling of earth and sea in the suggestiveness 
of the noises, in the singing of the canary, in the working of the 
helm, in the many voices below raised in a song of praise, and in 
the low and indescribable thunder of the surge at the bow, rising 
high in hills of glittering blue, to the plunging of the steamer, pro- 
duced an effect of melancholy and of wonder in the mind. It was 
the uniting of conditions utterly opposed, the voice of the land with 
the deeper notes of old ocean seeking lo whelm it. I suggest the 
cause; but, any way, it is certain I was glad when the singing 
ceased, when the canary had finished its song, so that I could hear 
in their pureness the organ notes of the deep alongside, and the co- 
lierent utterance of the ship swinging through the billows to that 


82 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


deep-throated melody. One at a time, no matter which! but to be 
a lonely listener to the sounds which reached me that morning put 
such fancies into one’s head as makes one glad to step on deck and 
see the clear sunshine and the glad and frothing sea, and to mark 
the buoyant speeding of the steamer through the radiant, life-help- 
ing scene.* 

We were still well north of the equator, and thundering down 
the northeast Trades with the splutter that a line-of-battle ship 
would raise, when Christmas-day arrived. It was a magnificent 
wind that blew, chasing us briskly on our port quarter, and quick- 
ening the steamer’s wake into living masses of broken water, cream- 
ing and sparkling in a thousand fantastic gambols-, with here and 
there a sea-bird sweeping over the smoking tumble, and ever and 
anon screaming out a hoarse note of defiance to the wrangle of 
waters beneath. You needed the sight of a sailing-ship to interpret 
the poetry of this warm and noble wind. At times it blew what 
sailors would call a topgallant breeze, and then it was you looked 
for some clipper fabric away to port or starboard — to starboard best 
— for to leeward you would see the heel of her, her bright sheathing 
(for one would fain have her a wooden craft) gleaming with dol- 
phin-like tints as she leaps from the blue swell to the glimmering 
green head of the serpentine surge, flashing ruddy there a moment 
ere burying herself to her wash-streak in the heaving of foam boil- 
ing aft from under her dolphin striker. 

In order to fitly celebrate Christmas-day the head-steward and 
waiters had gone to work to decorate the saloon. There was a little 
store of mistletoe on board, along with plenty of green stuff, which 
they wreathed about the lamps and hung festoon-wise about the 
ceiling and the iron beams under the spacious music-saloon. There 
were also rosettes in many colors and cheery legends for the deco- 
rations of the doors, and scari-like paper-hangings; so that b}’- the 
time the waiters had done their work the place wore a most festive 
and radiant appearance. I remember, while standing in the gallery 
that looked down upon the saloon, being much struck by a very 

* “ Oh, winged barkl how swift along the night 
Passed thy proud keel ! nor shall I let go by 
Lightly of that drear hour the memory, 

When wet and chilly on thy deck I stood 
Unbonneted, and gazed upon the flood. 

Even till it seemed a pleasant thing to die — 

To be resolved into th’ elemental wave. 

Or take my portion with the winds that rave.” 

^Charles Lamb. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 83 

X 

charming picture of four-o’clock tea. Several tables covered with 
red cloths were all ashine with what the late Lord Lytton would 
call tbe tea equipage. The sun shone brightly upon the scene; the 
dresses of the ladies, the light costumes of the gentlemen, the 
waiters in white trousers and blue jackets, the many Christmas 
decorations backed by the luster in the hand-painted panels, the 
irradiation reflected from the mirrors, the sand- white decks half- 
concealed by lengths of handsome carpet, fascinated the gaze with 
their scores of elegant and softly colored details combining into a 
scene full of warmth and life. Yet I am not sure that Captain 
Travers fully appreciated the head-steward’s taste. He would 
sometimes give me a nudge in the ribs or softly kick me under the 
table, that I might mark the expression on the steward’s face as he 
pointed out to the waiters on chairs how to match the rosettes and 
how to festoon the intervals between them. 

The plum-pudding w^as a failure. There w'as a curious rumor 
that the singular sloppiness of it had provoked some tears from one 
cook and dark threats from the other. Plum-pudding is all very 
well on Christmas-day at home, when, snow or no snow, the indi- 
cations of the thermometer serve as an apology for dyspepsia. But 
plum-pudding heavy, dark, and on fire within a few hundred miles 
of the equator, when the light of the sun has a distinct sting in it, 
and when gentlemen who undertake to eat the dish go to work 
upon it in duck trousers, no waistcoat, and faces inflamed with 
perspiration, is a Tathpr serious thing. It is like hot pea- soup and 
the smoking roast leg of pork, not to mention the iron-like sausage 
and the liver and bacon — the bacon all lean, and cut in stout steaks 
— which they will insist upon serving up wdien the sun stands right 
overhead, and the following breeze leaves the atmosphere on deck 
a dead and scarce breatheable heat. There was no case of inebri- 
ety worth mentioning on Christmas-day, if I except the mysterious 
steward to whom I before referred, and who impressed most of 
us as a species of decayed nobleman in disguise. A very little ex- 
cited this gentleman, and somebody having apparently treated him 
to a glass or two, he was to be found in dark corners, sometimes 
sullenly and sometimes very demonstratively arguing with other 
waiters. I watched his face, dusky with crimson heat, his luster- 
less eyes, and his generally limp person, as first one waiter and then 
another drove him from corner to corner. But he insisted upon 
arguing as he went, smiting his shirt-front and representing him- 
self in what Charles Dickens would call ventral accents, as an out- 
raged man who had fallen into this melancholy pass, not, as was 


84 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


basely supposed, through liquor, but, as he knew onlj’’ too well, 
through a Wicked Woman, with a capital W. 

New-Year’s-eve gave us better entertainment than Christmas-day 
had. Captain Travers had a magic-lantern, and in addition to this 
lantern he possessed a little hand-organ which emitted music by 
rolling out or rolling in, I really forget which, a great length of 
paper pricked with notes. Portions of this paper -were torn, and 
when these parts came to the organ the melodies took a decidedly 
intoxicated character. He gave us a magic-lantern show on New- 
Year’s-eve, accompanied by his paper organ arrangement. His 
theory of cheerfulness did not exactly hit the proposed end. With 
the idea of making us jolly and happy, he submitted to us a series 
of dissolving views of the most melancholy nature. The clergyman, 
who had now slightly recovered his voice, was good enough to un- 
dertake to read aloud from the little book that explained the story 
of the pictures, and the story, so far as I can recollect, referred 
largely to a shipwrecked sailor who had been brought ashore in a 
life boat only to find his child dying and the mother sometimes 
praying over the child’s cradle and sometimes fainting away in a 
church-tower after ringing the bell, for no other object that I could 
determine than to enable the ship’s doctor, who was nearly, dead 
with heat behind the screen, to strike a tumbler with a spoon. The 
chief interest, however, gathered about the child, who was perpet- 
ually shifting its posture in every next dissolving view, and obsti- 
nately declining to give up the ghost on any account whatever. 
There was some little sniffing among the female audience, and the 
only expression of hilarity that broke from us sitting in profound 
darkness — for the lamps ha(^ been extinguished to show up the 
views— was when the profile of the doctor, who assisted the captain 
to work the slides, showed in strongly marked proportions at the 
instant when we all expected to see the shipwrecked sailor rendered 
happy forever by the complete recovery of the baby. 

However, when the performance was over, when the lamps had 
been relighted, when Captain Travers had emerged, mopping him- 
self with a large pocket-handkerchief, and when we had all gath- 
ered round several bowls of iced champagne punch, our spirits, dis- 
ordered by the shipwrecked sailor and his baby, returned to us, and 
before long found expression in song. It was a genial illustration 
of the health-yielding properties of the voyage that a gentleman 
who had joined the ship at Southampton with a face of the color of 
boiled veal, and who had undertaken the journey to cure some mis- 
chief in the lung, and to get rid of a persistent and very trouble- 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


85 


some cough, should have risen after his third glass and, without 
being called upon, delivered, in high notes, indeed, but with plenty 
of wind power in their utterance, the fine old song, “ Here’s a 
Health unto His Majesty.” Equally startling was the effect pro- 
duced upon us after about the fifth glass by the quite unexpected 
and wholly unsolicited rising of an immensely fat and, as we had 
all deemed, hopelessly phlegmatic German from his chair. For some 
moments the silence that attended this gentleman’s feat of getting 
on to his legs was broken only by the hissing sounds of water rush- 
ing past outside and by the ceaseless sighing and snarling of the 
hydraulic tiller worked in the wheel-house overhead. Then the 
German gentleman broke forth; he gave us the “ Reiterlied,” from 
Schiller’s “Wallenstein’s Lager;” and, as there were some Ger- 
mans among us, the conclusion of this handsome ditty, sung to the 
inspiration of punch, was attended with no little applause. 

When the commander sung in an excellent baritone the famous 
old song, “ The Lass that Loves a Sailor,” one found one’s self ap- 
preciating the need of the existence of more qualities in the captain 
of an ocean passenger steamer than the mere sailorly capacity of 
guiding her in safety from port to port. It w ill not do to contend 
that the master of a great steamer should be simply a sailor. Let 
him be that unquestionably; but in these days the character of a 
mariner requires to be largely supplemented. You look for court- 
esy and sympathy, for a refinement of manner that need not neces- 
sarily suggest the polish of the drawing room, but that must as- 
suredly be of a kind to denote and distinguish the gentleman. Tbe 
captain of a passenger vessel stands in the position of host to the 
people who sail with him, and it is very distinctly in his power to 
make them happy and contented, or dissatisfied and ill at ease, by 
the attitude he chooses to adopt in his relations with them. A 
rough seaman may very properly have charge of a coaster or a 
cargo steamer; but the coarse laugh, the blunt address, the imper- 
fect English with which maritime theorists have endowed the En- 
glish skipper are by no means to the liking of ladies and gentlemen, 
the majority of whom scarcely tolerate the sea-dog even upon the 
stage. There is really no reason why a man should not be a fii-st- 
rate sailor as well as a gentleman in breeding and behavior. I pause 
an instant here to bear testimony to the popularity of the com- 
mauder with whom I was briefly associated, to qualities of culture 
to which a professional ingenuousness communicated the peculiar 
freshness that most of us note and relish in the bearing and speech 
of the sailor who is also a gentleman and a person cff intellect and 


86 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


education. It must be often desperately hard, I fully believe, for 
the shipmaster to bear with much that he has to encounter during 
his voyages. Shortly after we had left Madeira, a second-class 
])assenger wrote a letter to Captain Travers, asking him if there 
were anything eatable to be purchased on board the ship, and re- 
ferring him to a gentleman’s valet, who was also a second-class 
passenger, as a witness to the poverty of the food served out. What 
sort of food second-class passengers were provided with I have al- 
ready given instances of. The accusation was false, the reference 
to the valet insolent, the whole tone of the letter in the last degree 
offensive. Yet the commander showed no temper; he patiently in- 
quired into the matter, and, so far from exhibiting resentment, he 
ordered the steward to provide the grumbling passenger’s wife, 
who was in very bad health, with one of the most comfortable of 
the first-class cabins, and made her and her growling partner and 
their daughter welcome to the hurricane-deck, that is used by first- 
class passengers only. I greatly admired the tact and temper in all 
this; but I also guessed that one of j’our rough-and-ready seamen 
would have hardly imagined such a policy, or that he would have 
been incapable of practicing it if he had imagined it. Certainly 
among the responsibilities and duties of the commander of a mail 
steamer I would include the obligation of being a gentleman.* 

We broke off in the midst of our harmless revelry to witness a 
little performance of marine fire-works. These consisted of blue 
and green lights and Roman candles, along with a night life-buoy 
signal, that is to say, a flame that kindles from contact with the 
water and burns steadily. The sight was one to be remembered. 
The night was dusky with cloud, but from time to time, amid the 
broken wings of* vapor in the starboard sky, the planet Venus, 
“ Lad3^e of Moysture ” as she has been called, glorious, bland, and 
beautiful, would shine out with the quick light of a little moon, 
glancing a wake of icy brilliance upon the weltering indigo beneath, 
amid which the phosphorus winked like swarms of emerald-tinct- 
ured fireflies; she gave a bright silver lining to every cloud she 
sprung from and to every cloud that approached her, and she flung 

* In some lines it is the custom for the mates to mess together. They are not 
allowed to enter the saloon, to mix with the passengers, or even to address 
them. These men are graduating for command; but until they obtain com- 
mand they are not permitted any sort of education outside their strictly pro- 
fessional duties! It is inevitable that when men thus restricted become captains 
they should be awkward and at a loss in their relations with passengers until 
" they get the experience and ease which they might have acquired as mates. 


A VOYAGE TO THE GAPE. 


87 


a mist-like sheen upon a wide circumference of the sky, amid 
which the lesser stars languished or were wholly eclipsed as by a 
full moon. The fabric of the ship, her hull, spars, funnel, and 
rigging rendered phantasmal by the darkness, stole out into a fairy 
delicacy of outline to the green or blue illuminations; and, walking 
well forward (for these signals were thrown up from the quarter- 
deck), you saw the great steamer clearly lined by an irradiation 
whose hues rendered her as mystical as a phantom vessel, standing 
out against the blackness over the stern, while the headlong waters 
over her side swept past in an ever- broadening hurry of foam, one 
minute green as grass, then blood-red, as the wild lights burned. 

It was a memorable thing, too, the sudden flashing up of the 
white signal flame when the apparatus was dropped into the sea. 
There were no colored lights then; the ship loomed up black to the 
dark bodies of vapor over the mast-heads, and the sea-line encom- 
passed us with an inky circle, with no break of foam to relieve the 
impenetrable shadow save the throbbing and pallid whiteness 
streaming like a boiling river away into the liquid gloom from 
under our counter. It was there where the beacon shone, sparkling 
and vanishing as it rose and fell. For a long twenty minutes I 
stood watching it, with my mind full of the true significance of the 
steadfast light faithfully burning amid the wonderful desolation of 
that mighty scene of dark waters, and of stars glimmering wan 
amid the breaks of slowly moving clouds. Fancy grew sharp, in- 
deed, for it was a moment to heighten imagination. You watched 
the light and thought of a lonely man out there grasping with de- 
spairing hold the buoy whose exact spot was indicated by the little 
flame. A chill unielt before came off the sea to that thought, and 
you seemed to hear a moan that w^as like a distant cry of anguish in 
the night wind, freshening for a breath to the roll of the ship and 
sweeping wdth added weight through the shrouds that vanished in 
the darkness above the decks. 

But there was more iced champagne punch below, and before 
long we were all gathered again around the saloon tables, where we 
sat singing, telling stories, and laughing gayly, yet all of us waiting 
secretly for eight bells to strike— midnight! * 

The chimes announcing the birth of the New Year rang out, and, 
instantly rising, we crossed hands, and sung “ Auld Lang Syne ” in 
a hurricane chorus that might have been heard a league distant. 
Which, being ended, we fell to shaking hands, addressing a hun- 
dred kindnesses to one another, for, whatever may follow disem- 
barkation, one thing is certain— that on board ship the spirit of 


88 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


friendship is cordial and generous. And not yet to bed, as Pepys 
would say, for scarcely had we ended our congratulations when 
there entered a procession of waiters, dressed up in such absurd 
costumes as are only practicable on shipboard, where the most im- 
possible finery and the most ridiculous clothing are eagerly seized 
and rendered preposterous by contrast. This procession of men 
rang bells, played fiddles, beat upon biscuit- tins, and sung songs, 
detaining us with a score of amusing fooleries, until some one ex- 
cited a certain consternation among a section of us by looking at 
his watch and saying it was half past one. Then, indeed, to bed, 
but for a whole hour 1 lay awake listening to the faint chorusing 
on deck of a party of passengers who had determined to make a 
night of it, and to the ever- rushing sounds of water alongside, per- 
petually assuring us of swift and safe progress through the pathless 
obscurity, let the night be what festival it might, let our humors be 
what they would, let our forgetfulness of our situation be as com- 
plete as if we were dreaming of a bright New Year in our beds at 
home, with our little ones peacefully sleeping under the same roof, 
and the homes of valued friends around. 


CHAPTER IX. 

IN THE SOUTH ATLANTIC. 

One evening, no matter day or date, we %vere on the parallel of 
St. Helena. Call our latitude broadly sixteen degrees south. I 
had gone on to the forecastle, a fine, broad, topgallant deck, for 
the sake of the fresh .breezes that blew there and for the delight I 
found in watching the water breaking from the bows and spinning 
away astern in dim sheets of snow charged with a thousand flicker- 
ings of phosphorus. There was a streak of reddish moon fast west- 
ering, but it yielded no light to sea or sky. It was a dark evening, 
though the heavens were radiant with stars, with Venus — always an 
orb of rich and exquisitely soft and tender beauty — now irradiating 
the velvet blackness upon our starboard beam. 

I leaned, full of thought, upon the rail, gazing seaw^ard into the 
infinite distance, thinking of the rugged, lonely, historic rock that 
lay leagues away down in the far west, and of the figure that must 
ever dominate that island’s traditions — that famous shape of marble 
countenance, of drooped head and folded arms, standing as, some- 
how, one loves to picture him, on the very margin of the abrupt 
fall at whose foot the rollers raise their startling thunders, and 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


89 


gazing under knitted brows into the liquid junction of heaven and 
ocean at God knows what wild scenes, at what enormous visions, at 
what thrilling spectacles, real and past, or fanciful and foreboded. 

It was about this parallel, but nearer to the island, that there 
happened one of those wild and extraordinary tragedies of the deep 
which are deemed incredible when imitated or repeated in a v/ork 
of fiction. I will briefly relate the story, as it will lead me to an 
incident I desire to embody in these chapters. 

On such another night as this I am describing, a large, full- 
rigged ship was sailing quietly along. The starlight transmuted 
each ripple, rolling sluggishly away from her stem, into a line of 
silver wire. There was just enough draught to hold her sails 
steady. It was midnight — not a sound broke the stillness upon the 
vessel’s decks, unless it were the low murmur of the voices of the 
first and second mates seated on the after hatch-,- one exchanging a 
few words with the other before he went below. The master was 
in his cabin sound asleep. The starboard watch arrived on deck, 
took a lazy look round, and, as the custom of seamen is in fine, 
clear, warm weather, stow^ed themselves away under the bulwarks 
or under the lee of the long-boat for a nap, but ready for the first 
call from the quarter-deck. 

There were on board two Indian coolies who had been shipped at 
Manilla; one was in the port, the other in the starboard watch, and 
it was noticed by the port watch when they went below at midnight 
that the Indian belonging to their number remained on deck. The 
sailors had stowed themselves away, as I have said, and the mates 
were still conversing, when the two coolies stepped aft, and, both 
of them drawing close to the mates, one of them exclaimed that he 
felt sick. The speech was a signal; swift as thought the sharp 
knives of the Indians flashed and fell, again and yet again. The 
chief mate sunk, mortally wounded; the second mate staggered to 
the cabin door, and calling out, “ Captain Clarke! Captain Clarke!” 
fell dead. 

The master of the vessel, being awakened by the second mate’s 
cry of anguish, sprung from his bed and made for the steps of the 
nfter companion, his notion being that they were about to collide 
wdth a ship that had been sighted ahead at sundown, and that they 
had been steadily overhauling. Scarce had he gained the com- 
panion ladder when he was violently stabbed on the top of his head, 
and at the same moment a hand grasped his throat. He was in his 
night-dress and unarmed, and all that he could do was to strike 
fiercely at his assailant’s eyes, hoping to blind him. The Indian, 


90 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


however, unhurt, continued to stab at the captain, who descended 
the ladder step by step, striking out aimlessly and madly for his 
life. At the foot of the steps he slipped in the blood that covered 
the treads, and fell headlong back into the cabin with a frightful 
wound in his left side. The Indian, supposing him to be dead, 
ran on deck, whereupon the captain crawled to where his revolver 
was, and again feebly staggered up the companion, and called to 
the man at the wheel to shut the door. 

The fellow replied, “ I can’t sir.” 

“ Why not?” cried the captain. 

” There’s somebody there,” was the reply. 

” Who is there?” demanded the captain. 

” I don’t know, sir,” responded the fellow. 

The master had his wife and child on board, and his first thoughts 
were for them. He could not imagine what had happened, but his 
idea was that the whole crew had mutinied, and that his life was 
to be sacrificed. He was faint and bleeding dreadfull}", yet was 
crawling toward his wife’s cabin when a man came rolling down 
the companion steps. He thought it was the Indian who had 
stabbed him; quickly turned and covered the figure with his re- 
volver. 

” What is the nfhtter?” he cried. ” Who are you? what is this 
mutiny about?” 

The fellow proved to be one of the sailor’s, half paralyzed by 
terror. He crouched and knelt before the captain, crying, “Oh, 
hide me, captain! hide me!” and that was all his agony of fright 
suffered him to say. 

The master, believing himself to be fast bleeding to death, fell down 
on a mat in the corner of the cabin, yet ever with a trembling and 
languid hand holding his pistol leveled in the direction of the com- 
panion. His wife applied herself to stanch the blood and dress his 
wounds. While this was doing the coolies smashed the sky-light 
window, and one told the other in bastard Spanish to jump below. 
The captain fired at them, on which they rushed away, uttering 
many oaths and exhibiting great surprise and alarm. Very soon 
after they had vanished a dreadful cry was heard on deck, followed 
by a short scuffle, and it was known that the man at the wheel, a 
seaman named Malony, had been stabbed and flung overboard. 
This was followed by another cry, and then another. The cook, 
who was a Chinaman, and whose life the two coolies spared, after- 
ward declared these shrieks came from' the carpenter and a seaman, 
both of whom the Indians had murdered. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


91 


Besides the slain men there were four whom the coolies had 
w^ounded. These fellows had run to the forecastle for protection, 
and here the ship’s company barricaded themselves. They of 
course by this time knew that the murderers were but two slender, 
puny, Indian coolies, creatures whom an English Jack would be 
able to break the backs of by putting them against his knee. Yet 
these hardy Yankee mariners were so demoralized by terror that, 
instead of arming themselves with a handspike or two and spring- 
ing on deck and knocking out the brains of the brace of black vil- 
lains, they fortified their little forecastle, and lay in it trembling 
and panic-strricken. One of the sailors was left on deck. 

“ As I could not get forward,” he says, ” I ran up the mizzen 
Tigging, and got on to the cross-jackyard. 1 then saw them kill 
Malony at the wdieel. He otfered no resistance, and I heard him 
beg hard for his life. I remained aloft, and saw them, at two a. m, 
on Sunday, murder the carpenter, and shortly afterward they 
dragged a sailor from the carpenter’s shop, murdered him near the 
mainmast, and threw him overboard. Having done this they 
sharpened a couple of axes and fixed knives to long sticks with 
which they tried to stab the captain and his wife in the cabin. 
They wanted me to come down, but 1 knew they only asked me to 
do that in order to murder me. I had no knife with me, otherwise 
I should have cut off blocks and hurled them at the two coolies. I 
managed, however, to cast one block adrift and secure it to the end 
of a gasket, so that I sh')uld have some weapon to use if the Indians 
approached me. At eight o’clock in the evening, it being then 
dark, I felt the rigging shake, and, looking below, I saw one of the 
coolies raising his arm to strike upward at me I hit at him with 
the block, but missed him, and he descended the rigging to the 
deck. This so terrified me that I climbed as high as the royal 
yard, and stayed there all night.” 

The coolies approaching the cabin sky-light, one was shot in the 
breast by the captain. Both of them immediately rushed forward, 
threw a spare spar overboard, and one jumped into the sea, while 
the other dropjied down into the ’tween decks. Seeing this, the 
sailor who was aloft came hand over fist down on to the deck, and 
shouted out to the captain to break out of the cabin. At the same 
moment the sailors ran out of the forecastle. Meanwhile the coolie 
’tween decks was hard at work setting the ship on fire. Two sea- 
men armed with revolvers jumped below to hunt him out, and they 
shot him in the shoulder; but by this time the smoke was pouring 
out densely from the hatchway, and the coolie, half hidden by it. 


92 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


gained the deck, and sprung overboard. Both wretches were seen 
in the water holding on to the spar; but shots were fired at them, 
and after a little they sunk. The ship was on fire and burning 
rapidly. There was no chance of saving her, so a boat was pro- 
visioned, the crew entered her, and after hanging about the ship 
during Monday night, in the hope that the flames would bring as- 
sistance, they put some blankets together for a sail and headed for 
St. Helena. The vessel was an American vessel, and the ship’s 
company, who had been overawed and rendered helpless through 
terror by two miserable coolies, must have numbered at the begin- 
ning of the mutiny no less than twenty- three souls.* 

A sea-story is never better heard or thought on than at sea. A 
hundred meanings which are lost ashore steal into the narrative. 
You felt in a peculiar degree the horror and strangeness of the tale 
I have briefly outlined when you gazed round upon the vast shadow 
that encompassed the rushing steamer. I leaned against the rail with 
the speeding whirlpool under me trembling to the heavy gloom that 
filled the gaze from the roaring edge of the stream of white water 
to the horizon, picturing, with the aid of the inspiration of the stais 
fitfully winking in white and blue and green, and of the scar of 
moon gathering a dingy purple as she floated slowly down the west- 
ward dusk which seemed to thicken on the sea-line, that theater of 
shipboard on which had been enacted as extraordinary a tragedy of 
marine life as ever I had heard of. The picture drew out phantom- 
like from the shadow. There were the white decks dim in the 
midnight radiance, the figures of the unsuspecting mates, dark 
forms seated together, putting a thin murmur of human voices into 
the quiet breathing of the night wind, the sneaking shape of the 
two coolies with a gleam of steel in the hand tliey carried behind 
them, walking to where those unsuspecting seamen sat, pausing an 
instant when they had drawn close, one making his complaint in 
barbarous broken English, then both of them in a breath smitiug 
the two men, dealing death-wound after death-wound! 

Ay, ’tis at night-time upon the sea that all that happened in such 
a tale as this. comes to a man’s intelligence with a wild significance 
in it. I had so worked up my imagination by thinking over this 
amazing and horrid picture of murder, treachery, and miserable 
cowardice, that I started “ like a guilty thing surprised ” on sud- 
denly hearing a footstep behind me. 

* Since this was written there have been published two or three different ver- 
sions of this extraordinary story. The evidence, as I have repeated it here, was 
given in the Cape papers. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


93 


I peered and said, “ Who is that?” 

The man lifted his hand to his cap, and answered, “ Brooks, sir.” 

Well, now, thought I, that you of all living men on board this 
ship should come to me at this moment! Does the reader recollect 
the loss, two years ago, far to the westward of where the ‘ ' Tartar ’ ' 
■was just now steaming, and some degrees further to the south, of a 
little yacht called the ” Mignonette ”? It was a terrible story, worse 
in its wa}^, 1 think, than that of the Yankee ship I was dreaming 
about -when Brooks’s approach broke in upon my fancies. There 
were three men and a boy in her; the boy was killed and partly 
eaten by the crew, one of whom was Brooks, who now stood before 
me with his naturally pale face white as a corpse’s in the starlight. 
Of course, I had all along known that he was on board. More than 
one person in the vessel recollected the interest 1 had shown in the 
fearful story; and Brooks had been early pointed out to me as an 
able seaman making his second voyage in the ” Tartar.” Iliad 
watched him often furtively, yet narrowly. My sympathy with 
sailors caused me to find something of profoundest interest in a sea- 
man who had undergone the wildest extremity, who had passed 
through the most shocking experience that the utmost cruelty of 
the sea can impose upon her children. It was the capacity, per- 
haps, of realizing what his sufferings had been, what his memory 
still retained, that induced me to note in the character of his face, 
and in the expression of it, points that might have been missed by 
one to whom he appealed merely as a man who had suffered one of 
the trials of a sailor’s life. His eyes were sunken, exposure to the 
w'eather had failed to darken the pallid, unwholesome hue of his 
complexion, and the habitual cast of his countenance was one of 
melancholy. Knowing 'vsdiat he had undergone, and what his 
recollection must preserve, you would have regarded him as a man 
permanently oppressed and rendered bitterly sad by the memory of 
those dreadful days in a little open boat. His shipmates might 
hardly share these views. I do not indeed know that he was held 
in much esteem as a sailor-man. Enough if I speak of the impres- 
sion I got by w-atching him. 

“Oh! it is you, Brooks?” said 1. 

“ Yes, sir,” he answered. 

“ I believe,” said I, speaking with some hesitation, for I hardly 
knew" how he would relish the most cautious approach to the sub- 
ject, “ that had I lingered a little longer here I should have. found 
myself thinking of the ‘ Mignonette ’ and of your adventures in 
her.” 


94 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


He remained silent. 

“ It was somewhere on this parallel,” I continued, “that that 
frightful incident of the American ship happened. The ‘ Mignon- 
ette ’ foundered further south?” 

“Yes, sir,” he answered, “in twenty-seven degrees south lati- 
tude, and in ten degrees west longitude. That’s where we took to 
the boat.” 

“ There were four of you?” 

“Yes; Dudley, the captain; Stevens, mate; myself, and — and,” 
he added, with a stammer, “ the poor lad Parker.” 

“ What was the tonnage of the vessel?” 

“ Thirty-two tons, sir.” 

‘ You were bound to Sydney, I remember; a long voyage to un- 
dertake in so small a craft.” 

“ I would start again to-morrow,” he exclaimed. “ We did very 
well till that^ea came and knocked her in. We should have been 
all right had she been a sound boat. I have heard some people won- 
der,” he continued, gaining confidence. “ how* it happened that w'e 
were so far to the westward; but our course was right enough. 
Dudley’s idea was to get all that he could out of the Trades. I 
suppose nothing would have been said about his judgment in that 
matter if we had brought the craft to Sydney safely.” 

“ It was a story that painfully interested me when I read it.” 

“ I know it, sir, and I am very thankful for what you did.” 

“ I did my best. It would have been far easier to denounce than 
to defend the act. Since it came to wdiat it did, it would have been 
better had you put fair pTay into the shocking business by casting 
lots; but it is not for well-fed men to sit in judgment upon such 
anguish as yours. If high motive, if manly conduct, be witnessed 
in human extremity and misery, complicated by all that the sea can 
throw Into it of hopelessness and the heart-breaking mockery of ex- 
pectation, then, indeed, you can get the highest form of nobleness 
humanity is capable of. But no man has a right to denounce the 
failure of the most heroic and admirable resolutions in fellow^-creat- 
ures when their physical sufferings must be such as to wxniken the 
brain and distort the very truest of manly instincts. When I wu’ote 
about you I put myself in 3^our place, and, conceiving wdiat the 
madness of thirst is, and what frightful deeds men and w’omen have 
been goaded into committing by hunger, God forbid that I should 
dare to say, not knowing to wiiat deed the craze of famine might 
urge me. Had I been you I should have acied otherwise. ’ ’ 

“ I’ll speak for myself, sir,” he e.xclaimed, talking with a little 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


95 


hurry iu liis manner. ‘ ‘ I did not consent to the act. I was igno- 
rant of it, though what 1 did afterward by participating made me 
in a manner guilty, too. Yet I look back,” he said, pressing his 
hands to his breast, “ and feel that what was done was forced upon 
us by want of a kind" an ignorant man like me couldn’t make you 
understand, though I should go on talking about it all night long. 
For who’s going to explain what thirst is? it must be felt; and 
who’s going to relate what promptings and feelings come into the 
head with the madness you are sensible of, when the mouth is full 
of froth, when your body seems on tire, and a mortal sickness 
makes your eyes reel till the horizon swings round and round as 
though your boat was fixed atop of a spinning teetotum? I say, I 
look back and, feeling that what was done was forced upon us, I 
can’t make up my mind to believe that the act was the wicked 
thing it has been called.” 

” I should like to have your version of the story,” said I, ” un- 
less, indeed, you object to refer to the subject.” 

He answered that he was quite willing to talk about it, and he 
repeated with energy that he felt he was not to blame, and that he 
could look back without dread or disgust to what had happened 
during those truly frightful days he had passed in the ” Mignon- 
ette’s ” boat. 

” ^Ye were bound, as you know,” said he, “ to Sydney, in New 
South Wales, and when we were in the South Atlantic, iu the lati- 
tude and longitude I have given you, we met with some very 
heavy weather that lasted many days. It was on one of these days 
that the cutter shipped a great sea which started the timber heads 
and forced the planks out underneath. Stevens was steering at the 
time; he let go the tiller, tossed up his hands, and cried out in a 
wild voice, ‘ Oh, my God, there’s a hole in the side!’ We saw that 
there was no hope for the cutter; she was sinking fast, and bound 
to go down with us in her if we did not bear a hand. So in a vio- 
lent hurry we got the boat over— she was a cedar-built boat, four- 
teen feet long by four feet two inches wide, built at Brightlingsea, 
I believe. All that we took with us was a couple of tins of turnip; 
one of -these we chucked into the boat, the other we found floating. 
While the boat was alongside the lad Parker went below in the 
cutter tind got a half-breaker of water; but it rolled overboard and 
was lost, so we started with nothing to drink, and with nothing to 
eat but two tins of turnip. No time was given us, for the ‘ iMign- 
onette ’ sunk in less than five minutes after she had been stove in. 
There were two small oars in the boat, and the sea being very high 


96 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


we made a sea-anchor of the gratings, an empty breaker, bottom 
boards, and one or two other such things, and hove the raffle over- 
board and rode to it. There was a hole at the bottom of the boat, 
and the water came in fast through it, but this we stopped with a 
piece of waste. For thirteen days we had stormy weather and high 
seas. On the third day after launching the boat we broached one 
of the tins of turnip. We were hungry, full of gnawing pains, and 
we were wet through to the skin, and eveiy bone in us was tor- 
mented with a feeling as of being bruised, as though we had been 
hammered all over. Our being soaked made the wind come with a 
feeling as of an edge of frost in it. Day and night, day and night 
this went on, andj[ don’t know that the day wasn’t as bad as the 
night, unless it was that the blackne.ss caused the seas to wear a 
fiercer look, while there was nothing to see but the white heads of 
them running at us, and a star or two, dim as the riding-lights of 
ships a league distant, coming and going overhead. On the fourth 
day a turtle came washing past us; we caught him and drank his 
blood, which was as sweet a draught as ever I remember swallow- 
ing. We made the flesh of him last us till the thirteenth day. God 
knows how we contrived it, but I am giving you the truth, sir. I’ll 
not tell j’-ou how we managed for drink, though it seems strange 
that sailors should have to suffer more than the public have the 
courage to hear. We made shift to catch a little rain now and 
again; whenever a shower came we would hold out our tarpaulin 
coats like this.” 

He extended his arms, and there was an extraordinary pathos in 
the gesture, so full was it of the acting of a man impassioned by 
burning memory into ghastly, life-like action. I watched his white 
face in the pale reflection from the skies, and heard him sigh deep- 
ly, as though fetching his breath, when he let his extended afms 
drop to his side. 

“We let the boat drift,” he continued, “ in the day-time, but 
regularly at night we got our sea-anchor over, and rode to it. It 
was the thirteenth day, and in all that time never an object hove in 
view to give an instant’s hope to us. Then, on the thirteenth day, 
one of us proposed that we should contrive to make a sail; so we 
pulled off our shirts and secured them together, and made a mast 
and yard of the oars, and headed about north-west, driving along 
before the weather. We had no food, no drink,” he continued, in 
a trembling voice, suddenly subdued into a faintness of articulation 
that obliged me to lean my head forward, “ till the boy Parker was 
killed. He lay in the bottom of the boat feeble and ill, but I will 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


97 


not .«5ay — I will not say he was dying, I was sitting in the bows 
with my face covered up, dozing, when I was awakened by a sound 
of scuffling and kicking, and on opening my eyes I saw Dudley 
bending over the boy — I fainted away—” 

Here he broke off, and remained silent, half turning from me. 

“Enough!” I exclaimed; “ how were you rescued? I forget the 
ending of the story.” 

“We were picked up,” he answered, “by a German bark. 
’Twas the wife of the captain of her who was the first to see us. 
We sighted them long before they spied us. I was the only man 
able to throw the oars over and row. Dudley tried, and fell over 
the thwarts. There, sir,” he exclaimed, abruptly confronting me, 

“ I think I have told you all.” 

This narrative had long been familiar to me. I had read the par- 
ticulars, as published at the time, with amazement and pity, as, no 
doubt, had scores of others; but though my familiarity with ocean- 
life had qualified me to see pretty deep into the pathos, the anguish, 
and the horror of this tale, I confess that the hearing of it again 
from the lips of one of the actors in it, coupled with the circum- 
stance of my listening to it upon the deck of a ship steaming 
through a dusky night, communicated such color and such vitality 
to the terrible incident as made me feel, when Brooks ceased, and 
stood with folded arms gazing silently into the obscurity over the 
bow, as if I had shared in the misery of that time, and had been a / 
spectator of the lonely and shocking tragedy. Twice the ship’s' 
bell rang its powerful metallic chimes through our conversation; the 
bow wave, arching over from our sheering stem, rolled its electric 
note of thunder and of hissing rain past our ears as I questioned 
and my companion answered; you noticed the flickering stars reel- 
ing at the naked mast-heads of the swaying steamship; on the bridge 
stalked the restless shape of the officer of the watch; voices reached 
us from the deck beyond the forecastle on which we stood; and, 
glancing aft, jmu saw here and there along the black outline of the 
great vessel the yellow beams of cabin lights striking spokes of 
luster into the dusk that pressed like something tangible close 
against and down upon the sweeping fabric. 

For a long half hour after Brooks had left me I lingered upon 
the forecastle, thinking over the two stories which I have repeated 
in this chapter. If the romance of the sea lies in startling narra- 
tives of bloodshed, of famine, of shipwreck, such as we find in the 
old annals, shall we presume to say, in the face of such things as 
are here recited, and of the thousand thrilling and impressive inci- 
4 


98 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


dents which fill the annual records of the shipping journals, that that 
romance has vanished? In truth the life of the sailor of to-day is 
not less crowded with incidents amazing in a hundred respects, and 
often rising to the marvelous, than was the life of the mariner of 
olden times. The pirate, the slaver, the fighting merchantman, 
have indeed passed away; hut the shipwreck; the lonely boat; the 
gaunt and hollow face of the starving seaman lifted in wild appeal 
to the blank, unmeaning heavens; the fire casting its little world of 
crimson haze upon the midnight obscurity; the sinking ship, with 
all the heroism of the commander going to his grave as dutifully as 
the bravest of British mariners ever entered upon a battle; the raft 
with its perishing women and children; the savage, broiling coast 
with its hordes of colored barbarians pillaging the helpless fabric 
and stripping the unhappy survivors of the wreck, still remain, are 
still perpetuated, and must, I think, for the most part continue so 
long as man sets sail upon the ocean and takes his chance of what 
he may encounter. 

No! romance is yet an abounding element in maritime life, and 
every year witnesses the increase of its possibilities and the enlarge- 
ment of its sphere in the ever-growing numbers of vessels following 
or facing the flight of the sun and traversing the deep from one 
polar region to the other. 

\ 

CHAPTER X. 
missing! 

At the distance of about half a mile on the port bow one morn-, 
ing I noticed some floating wreckage. We passed the raffle swiftly, 
and in a very short time it had vanished astern as utterly as had the 
fabric of which this timber was the lingering fragments. There 
was a greenish tinge upon some of the pieces, suggesting that the 
stuff had been floating about for a long time. A missing shipt 
“ posted ” months and months since, and now, perchance, as 
wholly gone out of human memory as the obscure dead who were 
buried one hundred years ago. ’Tis a curious subject for reflection 
that when such a mail-steamer as I am now aboard of goes 
a-missing,” the story takes the impressiveness of a national mem- 
ory; while three or four vessels of an aggregate burden of five 
thousand tons, and containing in ship’s companies as many souls 
as a large passenger steamer would carry, may be “ posted, ” one 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


99 


after the other, within a fortnight, and yet win hut little attention 
outside the maritime, owning, or insuring circles interested in what 
happens at sea. Let an ocean passenger steamer he overdue hy 
three or four days, and the air becomes full of alarming reports. 
Every hour after a given time deepens anxiety, until expectation 
grows almost insufferahle. You have seen instances of this in re- 
cent times through a vessel breaking her propeller-shaft, or sustain- 
ing damage in the engine-room, and resolving to sail to port. But 
let a steamer of four or five thousand tons, and with two or three 
hundred people on board, be overdue by ten days or a fortnight, 
and eventually be classed among the lost — it need not be hard to 
realize the impression that would be produced. 

It is five years short of half a century ago that the “ President ” 
was given up as a foundered ship. It is true that in those days the 
opportunities which are now plentiful for determining loss were 
comparatively few. There were many sailing-ships upon the At- 
lantic, but there were no vast processions of steamers embracing an 
oceanic area that would prohibit all doubt as to the fate of a ship 
after a given interval. Yet enough of certainty must have attended 
the conjectures as to the fate of the “ President ” to render the long 
enduring of hope one of the most pathetic features of annals which 
are full of pathos. The “ President ” was due in Liverpool from 
New York in March, 1841; yet as late as May, and for weeks after, 
reports were current as to her safet}', which were greedily accepted. 
As a missing ship, this vessel is singularly typical of the effect pro- 
duced by a form of marine disaster which leaves nothing certain 
but that the beloved face will never more be seen, the familiar 
voice never more be heard. My sympathy with the sailor makes 
me feel, as often as I hear of a cargo vessel being “ posted,” as if a 
very grave wrong were done to the memory of the drowned seamen 
by the unconcern with which the great mass of the public receive 
the news — that same great mass, I mean, who would be stirred to 
the heart by the report of the foundering of a passenger steamer. 
It may be that there is a disposition to assume that Jack is used to 
being drowned, and that therefore his sufferings are not to be com- 
pared with those of passengers who are rudely awakened from their 
w^arm beds in the cabins by terrified cries on deck, and the strang- 
ling rushings of water. Yet there is many a sailor who has his lit- 
tle home, who, wdien he signs articles for a ship, says farewell to a 
father or a mother, to a wife, or to children. I confess that I think 
upon such men’s claims on cur sorrow and our sympathy when I 
hear of a ship having gone ” a-missing. ” The report that a vessel 


100 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


has not been heard of since such and such a date, and that there- 
fore it is supposed she has foundered with all hands, ought, I think, 
to take something, however trifling, of the significance we discover 
with full hearts and anxious faces in the news that an ocean pas- 
senger ship is overdue by a few days. 

Why do ships go a-missing? If yonder vanished, weed-colored 
fragments could speak, what would be their tale? Of all vain and 
hopeless literature, I know nothing more vain and more hopeless than 
the reports of the inquiries held by the courts constituted for that 
purpose into supposed losses at sea. The courts do their best, the 
nautical assessors put on their wisest faces, but, after long fathoms 
of examination and cross-examination, during which surveyors, 
builders, owners, stevedores, and other persons of a like kind are 
harassed for ideas, it generally ends in the court stating, in stereo- 
tj'^ped language, that there is very little doubt that the ship foun- 
dered, but why it is quite impossible to conjecture, unless the cause 
were ice, or collision, or a gale of wind, or the loss of masts, or the 
shifting of cargo, or the striking upon a submerged object, or the 
springing of a leak, and so on. Conjectures so ample can scarcely 
miss the truth. It is like firing at an object with a quantity of small 
shot, of which one, at least, is pretty sure to hit the mark. The 
court rises, but the fact remains a secret of the deep. 

When one thinks of the numberless perils which ships go begirt 
with — perils deliberately contrived by the hand of man, and perils 
over which the seaman has no control, and which are, therefore, 
very properly characterized as the “ act of God” — the wonderis- 
not that so many ships are posted as “missing,” but that dis;isters 
should not be very much more frequent and dire than is now the 
case. I received the other day, from New York, a newspaper-cut- 
ting telling the story of a fever stricken ship. The vessel was 
named the “Joseph Farwell,” and at one time all hands were 
down and helpless with Chagres fever, of which the captain and 
three of the crew died, leaving only two men, in a sick and misera- 
ble condition, to carry the vessel home through violent weather, and 
through a passage that seems to have lasted for some weeks. Diffi- 
cult as it is to believe, there can be no question that many vessels 
which have sailed awa}-- from port and never been heard of again 
have foundered through the sickness and death of the crew. One 
may suspect this from the many cases on record of ships which 
have only narrowly escaped destruction from fever rendering all 
hands helpless. 

There was the case of the “ Harkaway, ” of London. She sailed 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


101 


from a place calleti Boma, up the Congo, and after a week or two 
the crew fell sick, the engineers had to give up, and the engines 
stopped from want of steam. The captain alone kept his health, 
but his superhuman exertions in steering, slioveling coals to keep up 
steam, and attending on the sick crew, began to tell on him, and if 
he had not struggled to hold up for a day or two longer, when he 
managed to reach Bathurst, River Gambia, the vessel, as the ac- 
count says, “might probably have been driven about the ocean 
undiscovered for weeks, and all on board dead, as they were almost 
entirely out of the track of shipping.” 

Then there was the brigantine “ Marie Annie,” that was encoun- 
tered at sea, with the captain and six of the crew dying from yellow 
fever, three men only capable of tottering about on their legs, and 
so ill as to be totally unable to manage the vessel. The same brig- 
antine furnished the news of the disablement of the entire crew of 
a British bark named the “ Emma,” through the same malady. A 
little searching would enable me to furnish scores of such instances, 
but then, of course, these would all be cases of ships which have 
been in dire peril in consequence of the sickness of the crews. Of 
the numerous craft which have gone a-missing from this cause, 
whose interiors have been the theaters of sufferings unspeakable 
from the anguish and helplessness of fever, who can conjecture the 
number? 

Faulty construction, too, may have proved more prolific of dis- 
aster ending in “ posting ” than the shipbuilders might feel dis- 
posed to admit. I remember reading the case of the “ Penedo,” a 
vessel that in a moderate head sea, and when twenty miles off Porto 
Santo, broke in two, and foundered in a couple of minutes. This, 
to be sure, is a very violent illustration indeed of jerryism. Yet it 
is not necessary for vessels to break in halves in order to founder 
so rapidly that no lives are saved, and nothing more ever heard of 
them. 

Some ships, but not many, I suspect, may have gone a-missing 
through a cause not a little romantic and striking. The second 
mate of a vessel named the “ Silverhow ” stated that when the ship 
was in lat. 51 S., long. 80 ^ \V., a huge meteor fell, raising as it hit 
the water near the vessel a sound louder than the report of a cannon. 
The second mate added that if the meteor had struck Ins vessel it 
would have sent her to the bottom. Another wonderful meteor fell 
close to the steamer “ Lima,” and the United States man-of-war 
“ Alaska ” liad a narrow escape from being destroyed by one of 
these blazing objects. The captain declared that “ had the meteor 


102 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


struck the ship it would have been the last of the ‘ Alaska, ’ and no 
one would have been left to tell the tale of her loss.* 

Many a ship, in my opinion, has foundered out of hand, giving 
the people no time to get the boats over, through the breaking-down 
of the steering gear. A dreadful instance of this occurred in the 
loss of the “ Kenmure Castle.” The passengers and some Chinese 
were saved, and thus the particulars of tbe foundering came to be 
known; yet very little time was given, for scarcely had the boat 
shoved off when the steamer sunk with thirty or forty men on board. 
It is, in truth, in directions toward which landsmen would never 
dream of directing their gaze that the worst sea perils often lie. 
There can, for instance, be very little doubt that the semi- sub- 
merged, dismasted derelict, the lumping, half-sunken object, has 
caused many a well-found vessel to crush in her bows and take her 
last plunge. A master reports that on a clear but dark night, the 
steamer going slow, the look-out man cried out, ” Starboard the 
helm; there’s a ship under the bow.” Ere the helm could be shift- 
ed the steamer had driven in between the two masts of a sunken 
vessel. How is a captain to provide against such a risk? What 
look-out, even if he had the eyes of an owl by night and of an eagle 

* Since this was written, I have come across the subjoined account of a 
schooner, the “ J. C. Ford,” that was set on fire by a meteor while on a voyage 
from the Pacific coast to Kahului. The narrative is contained in a letter, dated 
“ Kaliului, December 22, 1885,” and addressed to the Honorable S. G. Wildei*. It 
is signed “T. H. Griffiths, captain; B. J. Weight, passenger.” On Saturday, 
December 12, according to the letter, being in latitude 23° 53' N., longitude 143° 
26' \V., at 1.30 P.M., the weather being fine and wind moderate, the first mate, 
Mr. Mercer, discovered the mizzen stay-sail to be in flames at the mast-head. 
With all possible speed the fire was put out by means of water, beating, and 
cutting away. “It is needless to say that all hands wondered at a fire occurring 
at the mast-head, but the finding of fragments of some metallic-like substance 
showed us that something of a meteoric nature was the cause. Those on deck 
were picking up burning fragments and throwing them overboard. Pieces of 
the strange substance were found at the base of the mainmast. A piece as large 
as a man’s hand was thrown overboard, quite hot, by Mr. Weight, and a piece 
as large, or larger, which was burning the mainsail, was thrown overboard by 
one of the hands. The above are the facts, as we remember them, and as they 
are recorded on the ship’s log. In the night previous the weather was clear, 
but meteors were very numerous, and the mate and ipan at the wheel noticed 
their frequency and numbers, and also that they would burst in a manner re- 
sembling a rocket. No shock was noticed, the first intimation of the occur- 
rence being the stay-sail in flames. Our theory is that the substance found is 
the crust of a meteor or fragment projected laterally. As there was a large 
quantity of kerosene and other combustible matter on deck, there were doubt- 
less moi’e than the two pieces thrown overboard in our anxiety to avoid 
disaster.” 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


103 


by day, could sing out in time to prevent a vessel from plumping at 
full speed into the bull of a capsized craft of perhaps eight hundred 
tons, not the least portion of which is visible until it is so close as 
to render the promptest instructions worthless. 

Here are two brief illustrations: The captain of a bark sights a 
ship that looks to be lying over on her port side, but, drawing near, 
he observes that what he mistook for a ship are the remains of two 
vessels. One was the after part of a newly coppered vessel floating 
bottom up; the other was the side of a ship of about one thousand 
tons. Next a captain reports that about midnight, in clear weather, 
he passed close to a bark which had no lights and appeared to be 
abandoned, as no answer was made to his repeated hails. He took 
her to be a North American vessel of about nine hundred tons. We 
have but to imagine a very dark night and the weather thick to 
understand how fraught with danger must be such objects, such 
massive, floating obstructions as these shipmasters describe having 
passed. One hears a great deal of reckless navigation, and, to judge 
from the letters which are constantly being published, written by 
masters of small coasting steamers, sailing-vessels, and smacks, 
there is reason to fear that this unpardonable offense is on the in- 
crease. But the most cautious navigator can hardly be held ac 
countable for running his ship, in a thick, black night, into a wreck 
right in a fair way, and scarcely noticeable even in clear weather 
until close to. 

Then again, how many ships go a- missing through fire? A Ger- 
man captain says on such and such a date he sighted an unknown 
bark; he saw smoke issuing from her, bore down and found her on 
fire aft. Stayed by her until she was in a blaze from stem to stern. 
There was a life-boat adrift near her containing some tobacco and 
provisions and a stone butter-pot. The German captain adds that 
nothing living was to be seen. In all probability the crew had been 
taken off by a passing vessel. But how many ships, one would like 
to know, have been met burning furiously, with their crews per- 
haps not above fifteen or twenty miles distant in boats, but destined 
never to be rescued? So, again, two hundred miles from Spurn 
Light, a large full-rigged ship is sighted burning furiously. When 
approached she is found with her deck burned away and the after 
part consumed to the water’s edge. Here, too, we find the crew 
vanished. But supposing them never to be heard of more, then as- 
suredly this flaming, nameless fabric becomes “a missing ship, ” 
and the character of her end may be ranked as among the deepest 
of ocean mysteries, even by the very captain who shifts his helm to 


104 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


bear down and look at her, and who leaves her as ignorant of her 
paternity as I am of the ship to which the green and sodden bits of 
timber that went swirling past into our wake just now once be- 
longed. 

The shifting of cargo is another fruitful source of disaster end- 
ing in the missing ship. Indeed, the catalogue is a very great deal 
too long. We are a marvelously scientific generation, yet no sea- 
man will contradict me, I think, when I state that one result of our 
improvements and inventions has been to increase the dangers of 
the ocean. It was only the other day that the captain of a passenger 
steamer of five thousand tons, newly arrived at the Albert Docks, 
wrote to me, saying, “ However I managed to get up the river with- 
out half a dozen collisions will always remain a mystery to me.” 
In truth, the crowd gets decidedly too dense. Our sea-elbows are 
distinctly too much on other people’s sea-ribs. But, for all that, the 
missing ship is chiefly the sailor’s ship — the cargo tank, the sailing- 
vessel — not the passenger ship. So much the better for the pas- 
senger! But since the misery of expectation can be understood by 
any landsman, since we may all realize without much difficulty the 
sickness of the heart that follows the ever-deferred hope of the ship 
bearing those we love being heard of and arriving in safety, let us 
extend our sympath}’^ to those who do suffer in this direction, and 
understand that no ship, however small, can be “ posted ” but that 
hearts are made to ache, homes are darkened, and sorrow and pov- 
erty are unleashed for their bitter work. 


CHAPTER XI. 

AN AUSTRALIAN’S YARN. 

Among the passengers was an Australian gentleman, and one 
evening, the steamer then sweeping over a burnished surface of sea 
and our talk going to calms in days before steam, he related the fol- 
lowing extraordinary story: * 

” It is difficult,” said he, ” for passengers by sea to realize in these 
days what a dead calm is. There is no stagnation unless there is 
some failure in the engine room and that, happily, is seldom the 
case — in ocean passenger steamships, I mean; for as to the metal 
tramps Britain has been covering the sea with of late years, they are 
hardly to be thought of when you talk of ships and the safety ships 
offer. As Doctor Johnson once said, while breathing out his hatred 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


105 


of the Americans, ‘ Sir, when we talk of men we don’t think of 
^monkeys!’ Still there are many sailing-ships afloat, and such pas- 
sengers as embark in them must necessarily now and again get a 
taste of a dead calm; but few landsmen, I think, will be obtaining 
experiences of this kind much later on. I do not believe myself 
that the sailing-ship is doomed. On the contrary, you have over- 
built so greatly in steamers, the loss has been so heavy in steam- 
shipping, and the cost of maintenance when put side by side with 
freights is so out of proportion with all reasonable commercial 
views, that a reaction in favor of the sailing-ship is quite possible, 
A return to tacks and sheets would, I think, be good for trade and 
for safety; it would increase the merchant’s and owner’s profits, 
and prolong the mariner’s life.* For only consider the red-hot 
rush that is now going on, the blinded madness of competition, the 
hurry pregnant with deadly penalties! The other day I read a let- 
ter, begging some dock authorities to erect a weighing-machine for 
public use. There was no time, the writer said, to weigh the pro- 
visions flung aboard for the oflicers and sailors, and hence owners 
stood to be cheated in quantities. A vessel just arrived must be dis- 
patched afresh within forty-eight hours, with the result that there 
was no leisure for more than pitchforking the cargo into the hold, 
and dismissing the wretched, listed hulk, with her jerry plates, and 
feeble engines, and drunken, foreign, under-manned crew with 
compasses all wrong, steering gear full of menace, cargo waiting 
for the first bit of sea-way to shift, and captain feeling like an ex- 
ecutioner going to his death along with those he had been hired to 
drown; dismissing her, I say, with the devil’s benediction on her, 
to some handy port in the bottom of the Bay of Biscay. 

“ No, slow-going canvas would correct many abuses, extinguish 
scores of men who now call themselves shipowners or managing 
owners, but who are much more fitted to serve as drapers’ or gro- 
cers’ assistants, put money into the pockets of the reputable owners, 
and end the sorry and dishonoring speculating notions which, at the 
cost of inland ignoramuses, have been filling the docks and rivers 
with steamers of barbarous construction, as worthless as earning 
powers as they are as fabrics. We may come back to the sailing- 
vessel, as I say, and I hope, indeed, w^e shall, in the interest of the 
whole of the maritime calling. But the days of sailing craft as 
passenger vessels are, I think, numbered. The emigrant, having to 
pay but little for his voyage, may for some considerable time yet 

* I repeat this gentleman's story, but I do not necessarily share his opinions. 


106 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


continue to enjoy the noisome twilight of the ’tween decks of the 
* magnificent A 1 iron clipper;’ the health-seeker will also often 
choose sail in preference to steam for the promise the square-rigger 
offers him of lingering long amid those salt winds in whose breath 
he hopes to find life and health. But the ‘ general passenger, ’ 
speaking of him or her as one does of the ‘ general public,’ is sure 
to go on adding to the popularity of the ocean steam-liner. We 
want to get to our port quickly, we suffer from seasickness, and 
look with abhorrence upon the ocean wave. A heavy rolling boat, 
through which we are carried at the rate of three hundred miles in 
twenty-four hours, ceases to be Ihe sickening tumblefication which 
the most seasoned among us would find it in a full-rigged ship, with 
her courses hauled up, her fore-and-aft canvas in, her light sails 
furled, wallowing and heavily dipping upon a swell coming in 
burnished folds out of a sky of sapphire which the eye explores in 
vain for the smallest hint of wind. 

“ I was making the outward voyage to Australia, some years ago 
now, in a very pretty little ship that might have passed for one of 
the Aberdeen clippers of the old White Star line, with her bravery 
of green paint, white poop- rails, elliptical stern, and other graces of 
a time that is past. We had made a good run from the English 
Channel, snored down the Bay of Biscay, as they used to say, car- 
ried topgallant stunsails through the Horse latitudes, and swept in 
comet-fashion into the north-east Trades, catching them in a squall 
of thunder and lightning, and then carrying them in half a gale of 
wind, till, as we drew closer to the equatorial parallels, they fined 
down into the familiar steady blowing, the bright clouds sweeping 
overhead, and sky and sea a glorious blue. Well, all this w’as very 
good indeed. We talked of making Sydney Heads in seventy days, 
and any man would have conceived such a hope justifiable who had 
marked the splendid sailing qualities of the little ship and her ca- 
pacity of making the most of whatever wind blew. I have seen the 
log hove to eight and a half knots when her yards have been almost 
fore and aft, and the weather sides of the royals and topgallant-sails 
aback with the wind-jamming of the helm. To be sure the water 
was smooth, but you know, to get anything like such sailing out of 
a structure you must have beautiful molding, lovely lines, an eel- 
like slipperiness right along the whole length of her. 

“ We lost the Trade wind somewhere about four degrees north 
of the equator. When I went below at midnight it was blowing a 
nice air; the black water was slipping by full of lovely phosphoric 
light; the breeze, ‘cooled by the dew that lay like ice in the star- 


'A TOY AGE TO THE CAPE. 


107 


shine all about the decks, deliciously fanned the face and kept the 
cabin and berths tolerably cool, puffing out as it did from the foot 
of the windsails, and softly breathing through the open scuttles. 
But when I went on deck again at seven o’clock in the morning for 
the bath I was accustomed to take under the pump in the head, I 
found the ship lying motionless in the heart of the very deadest 
calm I suppose that was ever seen or heard of in the middle of the 
great ocean. There was not a stir of swell, not the faintest lifting 
of a liquid fold to cradle the ship by so much as an inch of rocking 
either way. Nothing moved aloft. It was like lying high up a 
river or in a dock. The light sails hung from the yards without the 
least perceptible swaying of their cloths, and the mast-head vane 
was stirless. There was a wonderful hush, too, that— broad as the 
daylight was, and the sun flaming up right dead ahead of us, as 
though the ship found a magnet in the glorious luminary — subdued 
the heart with an emotion of awe, such as might seem possible to a 
man only when the mystery of night had gathered around and shroud- 
ed sea and ship in its mystical vagueness. There seemed a kind of 
steam rising up right away around the horizon, mere blue haze, of 
course, but, by rendering this line indistinguishable, by merging it, 
so to speak, into the skj^ it communicated a character of astounding 
vastness to the sloping of the heavens from the zenith down to 
where the azure penetrated the mist, and came sifting and spread- 
ing, as it might seem, through and over the surface we rested upon, 
to the sides of our motionless ship. I noticed more than one of the 
sailors pausing in the act of clearing up the decks after washing 
down, to stare about, chiefly aloft, sometimes into the far distance, 
with a kind of wonder, followed by much thoughtful, deliberate 
gnawing upon the concealed quid, and a long, doubtful smearing of 
the stained lips with the back of a hand like a door-mat, I made 
my way into the bows, and got on to the grating under the head- 
board, where the pump was, and I tell you it was startling to look 
through and behold unexpectedly the marvelously beautiful and ex- 
quisite duplication of the ship in the cerulean mirror on which she 
rested. Had she been embedded in a huge sheet of looking-glass 
the mirroring could not have been more perfect. My own face 
stared up, sunburned, at me through the grating, like a twin-broth- 
er ogling me two fathoms under water. You scarcely thought of 
the real ship in looking upon this inverted counterpart, the white 
figure-head, the bowsprit and jibbooms, the jibs molting in white- 
ness down into the sapphire faintness where the images died out, all 
touched with a kind of iridescence that gave a subtle softness, and 


108 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


€veii a sort of vague glory to the reflection which left its life-like 
perfections untouched. 

“ It was with the soaring of the sun that the sense came to a man 
of the meaning of this dead calm. It was more like the gushing 
and raining of white fire than the familiar shining of the orb when 
the sea gave back his light in a surface of brassy brightness, full of 
needles of rays. Transparent as the atmosphere was, you were sen- 
sible of a thickness and weight in it which made breathing a sort of 
yawning. It was an open-mouthed struggle with the lungs to re- 
spire, and it was a sight to see passengers and seamen gaping as if 
with wonderment as they looked about them, though it was nothing 
but the sheer labor of drawing in the breath. The pitch was soft as 
melted glue in the seams. If you touched anything of metal, a 
brass rail, a pin, the wire over a sky-light, a blister rose upon your 
hand, and for two or three days afterward you felt the pain, till the 
skin peeled off and the place healed. Men, the soles of whose feet 
were toughened into cowhide by use, danced away in agony for 
their shoes if they ventured to put a bare foot down upon the blaz- 
ing deck. For my part, I could think of nothing but spontaneous 
ignition I had heard one of the mates say that there was a quan- 
tity of fire-works stowed away among the cargo, and I remember 
thinking to myself that if a few hours of such sunshine as this did 
not scatter ship, passengers, and crew abroad amid a scurry of 
rockets and Catherine- wheels, it would have to be because the pow- 
der wasn’t of a catching kind. There was no use in grumbling. In 
fact, tlie temperature made one too languid tor what sailors call 
growling. We passengers turned in dismay from any kind of food, 
and I never thought Jack’s lot a harder one than when, at noon, 
looking forward, I spied an ordinary seaman leave the galley for 
the forecastle with a gallon or so of boiling pea-soup, the steam of 
which rose up past his sweltering face into the brassy dazzle over- 
head. 

“ All that day the ship lay in a trance. Nothing moved but the 
sun, and- the shadows which crawled along our decks and upon the 
sails. In the morning I had noticed an empty bottle in the water 
abreast of the gangway, and when I looked over the side at sun- 
d()Wn, that bottle was in the same place, ay, gentlemen, as if it had 
been anchored, and we moored head and stern. When the sun went 
behind the sea the sky was in flames, as if a city as big as London 
were on fire there. The heavens rapidly filled with stars, and a 
night wonderful for beauty and awful for stillness came on. ’Twas 
sliding below, and sleep was impossible. I do not know how the 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


109 


ladies fared. The men among us went to bed in lounging-chairs on 
deck under the awning, which the captain allowed to remain spread 
all night, I heard some one speaking to the man at the wheel — the 
mockery, though, of a helmsman in such a calm! — about a shark 
close over the quarter. I went to look, and saw the beast outlined 
in phosphoric fire, stealthily swimming forward. The creature 
swam round and round the ship half a score of times, till, upon ni)’- 
word, it made me feel as if it were some hideous sea-witch com- 
pleting the spell that was to hold us bound and slowly rotting upon 
that stagnant, silent sea. 

“Four days passed in this breathless manner — four such days 
and nights as I hope never to experience again. It was the night of 
the fourth day. We were sick of looking for the wind; our eyes, 
strained in search of the faintest blur in any quarter upon that brill- 
iant and shining plain of quicksilver, were sore with the fruitless 
search, and with the light that came off the water fiercer, I think, 
than the effulgence into which the masts lifted their heights. Four 
bells had been struck — ten o’clock. The second mate, whose watch 
it was, stood aft whistling faint and low for a draught of air. For- 
ward, some figures on the forecastle blotted out the stars under the 
hauled-up course as they paced with naked feet to and fro upon the 
dew- cooled deck. 

“ I was leaning upon the rail, smoking a cigar, looking into the 
mighty distant hush, made so puzzling by the mirroring of the stars 
going up to the sea line, and blending in white flakes to as far as 
the eye seemed able to penetrate with the constellations and starry 
dust of the firmament, that it seemed to me as if I were the spec- 
tator of some unfamiliar universe; when all on a sudden the ship 
trembled so violently that you heard the rattling of crockery in the 
cabins and the clanking of the links of chain-sheets. I instantly 
thought of the fire- works, and made up my mind to find myself in a 
breath borne sky-high. There was a pell-mell tumble on deck of 
all who happened to be below. 

“ ‘ What was that?’ 

“ ‘ What has happened?’ 

“ ‘ Has anything struck us?’ 

“ ‘ Has the ship touched the ground?’ 

‘ ‘ A dozen of such exclamations were abruptly silenced by a simi- 
lar thrill, this time more violent. It was, indeed, as though the 
keel of the ship were grounding over some hard substance; yet that 
was impossible, for she was motionless, and there was not a stir in 
the atmosphere. A minute after there was a dull moan as of thun- 


110 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


der miles distant. This mysterious sound raised the utmost con- 
sternation among us, for I tell you such had been the character of 
the calm of the last four days that it had come to act upon our 
superstitious feelings, and we all seemed to forebode something un- 
earthly. The half -stifled thunderous note was repeated, and then 
there leaped out of the sea. at the distance of about a quarter of a 
mile from us, a mass of red fire that flashed and vanished, blinding 
the sight as vivid lightning does. Though I could not see for some 
moments, I could hear, and 1 was greatly startled by a furious sound 
of hissing as though there were a small tempest raving close to the 
ship. Where the flame had leaped there was to be seen a large cir- 
cumference of heaped-up water, white as milk with boiling, and a 
vapor going up from it, looking yellowish as it floated past the stars. 

“ ‘ A submarine earthquake!’ exclaimed the captain, in a cheer- 
ful, encouraging voice; ‘ nothing to cause the least anxiety, ladies.’ 

" As he said this the boiling mass of water flattened to the black 
level, and then seethed out altogether, leaving the surface pure. 
After a little a strange smell of sulphur gathered about the vessel, 
and, looking over the side, we noticed a quantity of floating stuff 
that I heard somebody say was lava. 

“‘But Lord ha’ mercy, see here! see here!’ yelled the fellow 
who was standing at the wheel. 

“ We all rushed to look, and within a stone’s throw of our taf- 
rail, there lay upon the water a huge black shape, like the reflec- 
tion of a thunder- cloud. 

“ ‘ By Heaven!’ exclaimed the captain, after taking a long look, 

‘ it must be a dead whale! — some fish as big as a whale — killed by 
the explosion!’ 

“ The light w^as faint, plentiful as the stars were, and it was dilfi- 
cult to make out more than the vast mass of shadow the thing made 
close under our counter. One stared, hoping to see it vanish, for 
it was only the captain’s notion that it was the carcass of a whale ^ 
killed by the fire, or by the electric hurling up from under the sea. 
It was not until the dawn broke, however, that it was possible to 
get a complete idea of what lay close to the ship, though all night 
long the feeling of this giant corpse, pressing its mountain of cor- 
ruptible matter into the very shadow the ship made as she lay mo- 
tionless, rendered the passage of the hours slow and extremely un- 
comfortable; and even the chief mate, the mildest-mannered sailor 
I ever knew, let fly an execration or two when, after looking at the 
lumpish heap of blackness astern, he sent his eyes round the jet- 
like circle and found every tip of radiance in it tremorless. 


A TOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


Ill 


Now, when the dawn came, what we saw hanging in the same 
spot where it had arisen, was the body of a great whale, ‘ fin-out, ’ 
as the whalers say, with its belly rent in the strangest manner, as 
though fifteen feet of him had been clumsily gashed. It wouldn’t 
make a pretty picture to describe the sight. You can realize what 
mutilation means when the carcass is half the size of the ship it 
floats alongside of. There were three or four sharks at work upon 
it, plunging their frightful teeth into the mass, and worrying the 
water with their draggings and tearings into little circles of foam. 
The hot sun coming up— hot do I call him? roasting, I should say, 
with quick putrefying powers in every hour of his broiling light — 
made the dead whale a thing to be got away from as fast as possi- 
ble. Indeed, it was a shocking sight for the ladies to see, and dis- 
gusting enough for most of us men, though I’ll own to a sort of 
fascination in the spectacle of the sharks gorging themselves, and 
driving their shovel-noses in their fiendish way into their hideous 
feast. 

“ What was to be done? We might be becalmed for another week 
— ay, for another fortnight. Long ere that the heat would have 
risen out of that carcass a pestiferous atmosphere for all hands to 
droop and die in. We waited till noon; there was not a hint of 
air, so when the men had had their dinner the order was given for 
the boats to be got over and tow the whale away. But whether the 
overpowering heat rendered the boats’ crews, many of whom were 
foreigners of poor stamina, incapable of putting much weight into 
their oars, whether the extraordinary sluggishness of the deep 
backed by the deadness of the mass hindered their progress, it was 
certain that though three boats had got hold of the tow-rope, j^et 
after straining for two hours the only result was to carry the whale 
not five ships’ length distant from us. In fact, we were no better 
off, but rather woj^e, for now the horrible thing lay plain if you 
looked toward the sea that way, whereas before it was almost out 
of sight unless you went aft expressly to see it. The crew said they 
were dead beaten, and the captain, hoping for a catspaw, had the 
boats up to the davits again. But all that night it was our pleasure 
to have that hill of blubber and flesh close aboard of us, and see 
the sharks flashing up the fire as they feasted. Happily, just be- 
fore sunrise a light air came along dead ahead. The captain’s 
business was to get clear of the whale, and, without troubling him- 
self about his course, he made a fair wind of the draught, running 
everything aloft that would catch it. The catspaw — it was little 
more — drove us two miles away from the whale, then failed, and 


112 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


for three days following the calm remained the same extraordinary 
stagnation. Then, one night, a small breeze sprung up from the 
westward, and the next morning found the clipper sweeping through 
a stormy sea under single- reefed topsails.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

’longshore twisters. 

” One gets some strange stories from sailors,” exclaimed a gen- 
tleman, when the Australian passenger had ended his tale; and the 
glance the speaker shot around made you suspect he had not yet 
fully swallowed what he had heard. “ I spent a fortnight at an 
English sea-side town last summer, and the boatmen told me some 
ver}^ queer yarns — tough yarns, gentlemen.” 

” ’Longshore yarns,” said the Australian passenger. ” They top 
all marine lies. How did they run, sir?” 

“ Well, I must tell you I heard them in a public- house. I 
stepped in for a glass of ale. There were five men in the room, 
and they were arguing on politics in deep-sea tones, and many 
clinching nods, with a perfect storm of such sentences as ‘ And so 
I tell ye, mate,’ ‘ Don’t you go and make no mistake about that. ^ 

‘ Tain’t no use calling him a man, for he ain’t,’ and so forth. 
They gave up after awhile, and wandered into marine channels, 
which presently brought • them to the sea, owing to one of them 
making some reference to a man who had been brought ashore from 
a brig in consequence of having badly injured himself by falling 
from aloft. One word led to another, and presently the brig and 
the injured man carried us to the subject of sharks. One fellow 
said, ‘ That there notion of sailors reckoning that, because a shark 
follows a ship steadily for days, something desperate’s going to 
happen, is more to be found in books, I think, than in ships. 
Tliere’s no end of loose fancies being chucked into fo’k’sles by peo- 
ple; but I dun’no that you ever hear of nautical men picking them 
up. I remember, when I was first going to sea, being aboard a 
brig bound to one of the West Indy Islands. A shark came under 
our counter in the tropics, and stayed there for sixteen days. It 
became a kind of habit in us men, as we went aft to relieve the 
wheel, to look over the starn for the shark; yet 1 don’t remember 
any uneasiness. There was no sickness-:-nothiug went wrong; but 
recollecting that the crew never got talking about any fancies con- 
nected with that shark, I don’t suppose anything could have hap- 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


113 


pened to us which we should have dreamed of putting down to his 
hanging in our wake for all them days,’ 

“ ‘ Oh, but there are superstitions about sharks,’ said I. ‘ Sailors 
are not the ignorant set of men the public on shore have been made 
to believe, but some superstitions they have certainly, and one un- 
questionably is that a shark steadfastly following a ship for several 
days bodes ill-luck.’ 

“ ‘ Well,’ he said, ‘ I know that that’s the idea, but I’ve followed 
the sea, man and boy, for eight-and-twenty years, and never re- 
member a shipmate showing any uneasiness because a shark hung 
in our wake. ’ 

“ ‘ I have known good luck to be brought by a shark,’ said one 
of the men. ‘ When I was an ordinary seaman, lying in a harbor 
down Porto Rica way, the chief mate, who was a bully, told me 
one day I shouldn’t go ashore. Out of spite, and being a passionate 
rascal, hated by all hands, he hung about to see that I didn’t give 
him the slip. I was determined to go ashore, and so threw off my 
shoes and jacket, and took a header off the fo’k’sle-rail, and struck 
out. The mate outs with a revolver and lets fly at me. There was 
a moon, and the water was full of fire, and he could see me plain 
enough. Finding he’d missed, and that I was still swimmiug, he 
whips off half his clothes, as I was afterward told, and jumps in 
after me. I allow his notion was to have drowned me could he 
have come up with me. Some of the hands looked on, and they 
told me what happened. I hadn’t heard the mate jump, and didn’t 
therefore know he was following of me; but I thought he might 
lower a boat, and I swam hard to get ashore first, resolving to de- 
sert that vessel if so be I could get foot upon dry land. Well, it 
wasn’t two minutes after the mate had made his plunge when I 
heard a frightful scream behind me. The sound of it nearly froze 
my blood, and I went on sawing through it, arm over arm, till the 
water was in a blaze all about me. 1 got ashore, and stood looking 
toward the vessel, and, seeing that no chase was being made, I went 
leisurely into the town. Next morning a man asked me if 1 was 
the young chap that had jumped overboard to swim ashore. I said, 
“ Yes.” ” Well, then,” says he, ” the mate followed ye, and saved 
your life.” ‘‘How d’ye mean?” says I. “Why,” he says, “a 
minute after you were in the water a shark rose to you. The men 
on the fo’k’sle saw his figure plain. Before they could sing out the 
mate jumped. The splash he made seemed to frighten the fish for 
a second, for the fiery line of him vanished. The mate swam right 
for him; some of your chaps roared out. I suppose the poor devil 


114 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


thought they was deriding of him. The next thing seen was his 
body hove up to the waist out of water, and a lashing of white 
shining water about him; then he just gave one shriek.” “Ha!” 
said I, shudderin’, “I heard that shriek!” So you see, sir,’ said 
the speaker, addressing me, ‘ that sharks can bring luck to a vessel.’ 

“ ‘ But what sort of luck does your story illustrate?’ said I, star- 
ing at him. 

“ ‘ Why,’ he answered, ‘ wasn’t it a first-class stroke of luck for 
a crew to get rid of a bullyin’ mate, without having to lift a finger 
against him? If it hadn’t been for that there shark I should have 
lost my chest and clothes, for I didn’t mean to return, and, of 
course, they would have been sacrificed. ’Stead of which, when I 
heard that the mate was dead I returned to the vessel, and the 
captain was too glad to get me again to say a word about what I’d 
done.’ 

” ‘ That don’t equ;il your shark story, Joe,’ said another of the 
men; ‘ Bill’s is neat, but it ain’t got the gaudiness that yours has.’ 

” ' What’s the yarn?’ I asked. 

” ‘ Well,’ said the man called Joe, putting down his pipe, ‘it 
happened in this way. It’s twenty year since. Ay, twenty year 
and a matter of three months since. I was aboard a little ship 
bound from Hull to Serry Leone. We got into roasting weather, 
and the ship took fire, but the cargo was coal, and twenty-four 
hours after we’d smelt the fire an explosion of gas blew up the 
deck, abreast of the gangway, and killed two men. This made an 
opening too big to smother. The fire and smoke rolled up, and, as 
the ship was doomed, we turned to and got the boats over. The 
captain and six men went in one boat; the chief mate and six men 
in another. I was with the mate, and we lost sight of the captain’s 
boat that night. I think the nearest point of the African coast was 
about one hundred miles off, but the mate shook his head when we 
asked him about the laud there. He said if w'e got ashore one of 
two things was bound to happen: either we should be stripped by 
the natives, perhaps killed or carried into captivity, or we should 
die of hunger and thirst. Our only chance, he says, was to head 
the boat for some African port he named (I can’t recall it off-hand), 
and this we agreed to, always keeping a bright lookout for ships. 
Our stock of water and provisions was small. It was broiling work. 
For two days we had a light breeze that forced us to ratch. It 
then came on very quiet weather, with baffiing airs, and sometimes 
calms so dead that you’d look for dying and decaying fish on the 
surface of the stuff that was like oil. This went on; we scarcely 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


115 


made any progress; and what with the wet of the dew and (he chill 
of it at night, and the glaring of the sun by day coming off the 
water with the sting of a furnace in its bite, our sufferings became 
dreadful. 

“ ‘ It was one morning after we had been seven or eight days 
adrift in this fashion. Twenty-four hours before we had finished 
the last drop of our fresh water, and it was now three days since 
anything solid had been swallowed by us. It was another d(;ad 
calm, and when the sun rose I stood up with my arm around the 
mast to support myself, and took a look round. The sun made it 
all white dazzle out in the east, and I brought my eyes away from 
that quarter with the tears tricklin’ down my cheeks. As I slowly 
stared round into the west I saw something moving, not more than 
half a mile off. It looked to me to be a spar, about fifteen or twenty 
foot long, and I knew it V’^as moving by observing the ripples which 
broke around it and the shadow it made upon the water. I called 
the mate’s attention to it. He was so ill that he scarcely had the 
heart to lift his head, but the sight of that there spar moving along, 
as it seemed, all by itself, put a kind of life into him. Indeed, it was 
an exciting thing to watch. The wrinkles breaking from it proved 
that it wasn’t a current that was making it go. It was coming our 
way, but as it would pass ahead we made shift to chuck an oar 
over. It was about a cable’s distance from us when it came to a 
dead stand. Our boat had a little way upon her, and, as she ap- 
proached the mate, who had crawled into the bows, cried out in a 
faint voice, “ Gracious thunder; here’s a sight!” Wliat d’ye think 
it was? Well, I’ll tell ye. It was an old spar of the length I have 
named, made fast to a great shark. You could see the big fisli 
sunk to about twice the depth of his dorsal fin below the surface. 
He seemed tired of dragging this here coach, and was taking a rest. 
I couldn’t explain to you how the towing gear was made fast to 
him. I think I heard the mate say that there was a sort of grum- 
met or rope-collar over his head, secured by a chain through hi.-, 
mouih, and that he towed the spar by lines made last to tins collai-. 
We all stood looking a moment, for the shark, that seemed as big 
as a grampus, was plain enough past the spar, when a man named 
Harry Kemp cried out, ” It ’ud be a blooming good idea to make 
him tow us. No more calms to bother us then, and he ought to 
drag us in sight of something anyhow.” No sooner said than 
done! The boat’s painter was whipped round the spar and secured 
to where its guys were hitched. But only just in time, for we w'ere 
scarcely fast when old sharkee floats up to the surface, bringing his 


116 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


fin clear of the water. Then with a fierce sweep of his tail he 
shoots ahead, dragging the spar and our boat after him. Perhaps 
the extra weight put him into a passion, or may be he didn’t find 
the spar so hard to tow now that it was kept end on by our boat’s 
steering of it; but be this as it may, the shark went through it in 
fine style, heading a straight course. It was like a screw tug snort- 
ing ahead of a train of barges. Our spirits revived with the mo- 
tion. All day long he towed us, sometimes slackening down, at 
other times falling mad and sweating through it like a comet. We 
had a compass in the boat, and the mate said that his heading 
varied from between south and west-nor’-west. Any way, two 
hours afore sundown that same evening we sighted a sail right over 
sharkee’s head. There was then a light air, and she was standing 
about nor’-east. The shark bowled us along as though he guessed 
his towing jol) would be over if he could bring us to the vessel. 
And,’ said the man, speaking with emphasis, ‘I’m blessed if we 
didn’t think he meant to tow us alongside, for he steered as true as 
a hair for the ship until she was within a quarter of a mile, when 
he suddenly grew perverse, put his helm up, and wanted to drag 
us due east. But we cut the painter, and let him go. The ship 
backed her fore-topsail and picked us up. I reckon they looked 
upon our boat as bewitched, for they had seen her coming along 
without oars or sail, and the shark never showing himself, and 
nothing being visible but the spar in front of our boat, kept them 
puzzling till they couldn’t have been more alarmed if we had been 
a boat-load of hobgoblins.’ 

“ ‘ A curious yarn that, sir,’ said one of the men to me. 

“ ‘ Very,’ said I, 

“ ‘ The sea is full of wonders,’ said the man. 

“ ‘ It is,’ I exclaimed. 

“ ‘ I was one day out a-fishing, ’ he said, ‘ in about three fathom 
of water. It was a cold October day, the water very quiet. There 
was codlins, whitings, poutings, and the like of such fish to catch 
in plenty, and I rowed out to see if I could aim a shillin’. Well, 
when I came to the place where I reckoned the fish was I threw in 
my oars, picked up the boat’s anchor, and chucked it overboard. 
Guess my surprise and annoyance when I found that some one had 
been and gone and cut the cable close to where it was made fast in 
the boat. It was the doing of some boys, I suppose; but, any ways, 
the anchor took the cable, and away went the whole consarn. It 
was a new rope, and I had no notion of losing it, and my little an- 
chor as well; so I took a fishing-line, put some extra weights upon 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


117 


it, and secured the other end to a little cork fender, with which I 
buoyed the spot, and then rowed home again for the loan of a 
creep, A creep, I may tell ye, is a contrivance for sweeping the 
bottom of the water with, to bring up anything ye may have lost. 
Well, I got the loan of one, and called to Jimm}’’ Dadds, a cliap of 
about eighteen years old, to come out and give me a hand, promis- 
ing him half a pint. We rowed out, came to the place, and he be- 
gan to row quietly, while I chucked the creep over. It hadn’t been 
down two minutes when it came across something that felt soft. It 
wasn’t to be pulled up easy. The hold of it anchored the boat. 
“ What the blazes have we hooked here?” says I to Jimmy, feeling 
whatever it was wobbling, as it might be, upon the creep, and yet 
refusing to come up. ” Come and len’s a hand.” He got up, laid 
hold of the line, and hauled with me. What was coming we couldn’t 
imagine. The feel, I tell ye, was quite siii’glar. It wasn’t like 
a piece of wreck; it wasn’t like a fish; it wasn’t like being foul of a 
rock. There was a kind of swaying and softness about it, as if the 
object was alive, and was holding on to prevent being drawed up. 
” Haul!” says I. We bent, our backs, and started the object out of 
its moorings below; and what d’ye think came up? Why, sir, 
there popped half out of water the beautifullest female as ever ye 
set eyes on! She looked right at us, and I never see such a smile as 
she had. She seemed to be covered with jewels, and her black hair 
was all wreathed about with sea- weed. She had one arm raised out 
of water, and this was stretched out to us as if she entreated us to 
leave her alone. Jim, who was the most ignorant fool of a lad that 
ever I met, at sight of her gives a screech and tumbles right back- 
’ards in the bottom of the boat. His falling threw the line out of 
my hand. The woman disappeared, and when I hauled up the 
creep for her again the irons came up naked. I own I was a bit 
scared myself, but not so alarmed but that I was anxious to go on 
creeping for her again. But Jimmy refused to have anything more 
to do with it. He said no; he’d come out to sw^eep for an anchor, 
he didn’t want no dealings with apparitions. As to the half -pint, 

I might drink it myself. What he required was to be put ashore. 
However, I wasn’t going to leave without my anchor, so I gets the 
boat into position again, and at the first throw of the creep I brings 
up the cable. I then rowed Jimmy ashore, where, meeting a couple 
of men, I tells them of the apparition that came up, and invites 
them to come out to try if another sight could be got of her. Well, 
they consented, but though I could have swore we swept over the 
place twenty times we never hooked on to the object. It got talked 


118 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


about, and others tried, but to no purpose. Jimmy’s yarn made 
people believe it was a mermaid. Fact is, he was in such a state of 
funk, he saw a good deal more than I did, or than any other man 
that hadn’t lost his head would. He said she motioned with her 
hand, as though to drive us away, and that her eyes sparkled. I 
couldn’t deny myself that she looked as if her dress was coated with 
jewels and pearls, at least as much of her dress as I could see; and 
there’s no denying, also, that her hair was a beautiful black, and as 
she rose to the surface, looked to be floating and Ailing under the 
sea- weed that hung about her head so gracefully you might ha’ 
swore it was her sweetheart’s doing.’ 

“ ‘ But it wasn’t a mermaid, of course,’ said I. 

“ ‘ Well, I dun’no, I’m sure,’ he answered. 

“ ‘ The newspapers said,’ exclaimed another man, ‘ that it must 
have been a ship’s figure-head.’ 

“ ‘ Ay,’ said the other, with some little show of resentment, as 
though refuting an argument that annoyed him. ‘ It’s all very fine 
saying it might have been a figure-head. But why was it never 
come across again? How was it that me and the score of others 
wdio tried for it never could hook it? I’m not going for to say that 
she was alive, for I ain’t such a fool as Jimmy; but neither are ye 
going to get me to believe that the smiling, beautiful figure as rose 
up glittering with jewels was a carvin’ out of wood, and so I tells 
ye. What it w^as I dun’no, but I do know what it warn't!' and, 
looking very gravely at me, he filled his pipe afresh, and sat smok- 
ing thoughtfully.'^ 

“ ‘ I’ll give ye a stranger story than that,’ said a shaggy, ring- 
leted man, who might have passed for Robinson Crusoe in undress. 

‘ I had sold a boat for forty-five pound; the money was paid me 
down in notes— call it four o’clock when this here money was paid. 

* I have since come across the following in the “ Annual Register,” 1809: 

“Extraordinary Phenomenon. — At Sandside, in the parish of Reay, in the 
County of Caithness, there was seen about two months ago an animal supposed 
to be a mermaid. The head and the chest, being all that was visible, exactly 
resembled those of a full-grown young woman. The mammae were perfectly 
formed; the arms longer than in the human body, and the eyes somewhat 
smaller. When the waves dashed the hair, which was of a sea-green shade, 
over the face, the hands w^ere immediately employed to replace it. The skin 
w'as of a pink color. Though observed by several persons within the distance 
of twenty yards for about an hour and a half, it discovered no symptoms of 
alarm. It was seen by four or five individuals of unquestionable veracity at 
the same time.” A fuller account of this “phenomenon” is printed in the 
same issue of this “ Register,” pp. 393-895 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


119 


It was too late to put it in the bank, so when I gets home I turns to 
and rolls the notes up in a piece of thick brown paper, and seals up 
the ends. I made a parcel like a couple o’ ounces o’ baccy rolled 
up tight, and I puts the package into the side pocket of my jacket 
for safety. Well, that night it came on to blow hard. Me and my 
brother lived in a little cottage just at the back of Fish-alley. He 
was one of the life-boat’s crew. At about two o’clock in the morn- 
in’, when it was snowin’ and blowin’ at the top of its fury, there 
came a call to my brother, and out he ran, with half his clothes in 
his hands, putting of ’em on as he went. I had some nets to over- 
haul in the morning, and when I got up, it being dark, I felt for 
my coat to put on, and found it a- missing. I struck a light, and 
saw that Bill — that was my brother — had, I suppose in the hurry, 
taken my coat by mistake. Well, you may reckon this gave me a 
start, for I naturally thought of my forty-five pound. I went down, 
dropping all thoughts of my nets, to hear if there was any news of 
the life-boat. Well, there was no news, and nothing was heard of 
her till nine o’clock that night, when she arrived \^ith the survivors 
of the crew of a Norwegian brig, and one of her own crew drowned. 
And who was he? Why, Bill, and no other. He’d been knocked 
overboard by a sea, and instantly lost sight of. With him had gone 
my forty-five pound, and, spite of Bill and me havin’ bin very good 
friends, I felt as if I should never be able to forgive him for taking 
my coat instead of his’n. Well, I went to the expense of gettin’ 
some small bills printed, offerin’ a reward for the discovery of his 
body, though a chap named Tommy Hall says to me that I was 
only a-spendin’ of my money to no purpose, since whoever found 
the body was pretty sure to overhaul it first and take the notes. 
Time passed, and I made up my mind that the money was gone for 
good and all, and resolved to give up troubling myself about it. 
One day, about three months a’rterward, Tommy Hall comes up to 
me and says, “ I was down at old Glass’s last night, and young Joe 
Miller stated in my hearing that there was a piece in a London 
paper speaking of a cod that had been brought ashore at Plymouth 
which, when opened, was found with a roll o’ Bank o’ England 
notes in his guts. 1 wonder,” says Tommy, ” if them there notes 
could be yourn?” I got the paper, read the piece, and took it 
round to old Mr. Sheepskin, the lawyer. He says to me, “Have 
ye got the numbers of them notes?” I says, “ No.” ” Who paid 
’em ye?” says he. I up and told him. ” See if he’s got ’em,” says 
he. I found he had, and I comes back with ’em to Mr. Sheepskin, 
and left the job in his hands. Well, just as I expected, they turned 


120 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


out to be my notes; but old Sheepskin took care that I shouldn’t 
get their value, for he made out such a bill for time, travelin’ ex- 
penses, hagencies, and the likes of such things as them, that all the 
money I got was twenty pound. However, I was glad enough to 
get that, for I had reckoned the whole bloomin’ sum lost.’ 

“ As this ended the yarn, I rose to go. One of the men, who had 
sat silent, came out with me into the street. I said to him, as we 
stood a moment at the door, ‘ Curious stories, these?’ 

“ He expectorated some tobacco juice, wiped his lips upon the 
back of his hand, and said, hoarsely, ‘Yes; but they might be 
made much curiouser, considerin’ they’re all lies.’ ” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

TO TABLE BAY. 

The south-easj Trades are a delightful wind when first “ taken;” 
but as the ever-rotating propeller drives us deeper and deeper into 
the heart of them, while the easterly trending of the coast of Africa 
opens a wide ocean under our fore-foot, they freshen into a strong 
breeze, which, on the bridge, seems to come with the weight of half 
a gale, owing to the velocity with which we were urged against the 
dead-on-end wind. The only unpleasant bit of this enchanting and 
sunny voyage is to be found a few degrees north of the equator, 
where you feel the proximity of a burning coast in an atmosphere 
that is at once glowing and steamy. It is here, as the ship’s doctor 
told me, where the consumptive patient suffers most.* 

But three hundred and twenty miles a day speedily leave the 
brassy glare and the humid draughts of this ocean region far astern. 
It is the memory of those few parallels, though, which makes one’s 
entrance into the south-east wind a sort of festival to spirit and* body. 
The air grows cool, albeit the sun stands right overhead, and at 
noon you look in vain underfoot for your shadow; the sea is of a 
deep and most glorious hue, with long billows flowing in lines of 
sapphire and snow, brightened here and there into a dull gold by 
the sun. I remember standing on the bridge one forenoon and 
looking for a long while at the beautiful picture offered by the ship. 
She was what sailors term “ light,” and a trifle down by the stern, 
so that forward her stem showed as high as a cliff with the tall top- 

♦ It is also not uncommon for persons who have suffered from African fever 
to exhibit in this part of the sea sjmiptoms of the old complaint. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


121 


gallant forecastle and the spring of the deck due largely to her trim. 
The foremast, with its heavy -goose-necked derricks, the lofty fore- 
castle front, the lighthouse towers with their polished brass tops 
shining like suns to the noontide effulgence, the jib and stay-sail 
stowed in netting, and resembling in shape a couple of gigantic ba- 
nanas swaying on the stays, the row of capstan bars ranged along 
the rail at the break of the forecastle, combined t6 give all this for- 
ward part of the ship a heavy and massive look. A boy turned a 
grindstone while the carpenter sharpened some tool of his upon it. 
On the port side you saw carcasses of meat, showing red through 
the large, round window in the butcher’s shop; gathered together 
under the forecastle deck I'or the comfort of the shade there stood 
blocks of grimy firemen and trimmers intermixed with a waiter or 
two, a few sailors, and some colonial Dutchmen in queer caps and 
coarse dress, smoking strangely shaped pipes. There were children 
playing on the deck between where I stood and the forecastle; 
women sat on chairs and benches nursing babies and watching the 
sports of the little ones; on either hand you saw a range of coops so 
filled with fowls and geese that one laughed out of sheer pity to see 
the densely packed creatures billing one another in the full con vie 
tion that they were pluming themselves. The frame of this picture 
was formed by the bulwarks rising to the forecastle and thence go- 
ing in high iron rails to the forecastle head. But the charm I found 
in the scene lay in the lifting and falling of the huge bows. With 
every dive of them into the steep violet hollows there was thrown 
out a boiling mist of spray rich with fragments of rainbow. The 
shadows of the people swung at their feet. The glories kindled by 
(he perpendicular sun in brass- work and polished woods and in the 
radiant glass of sky-lights hashed and faded with each sweeping 
heave. One moment the outline forward, rendered ponderous by 
the scores of details between the rails, rose buoyant as a balloon to 
the lifting of the blue Atlantic surge; then it was all sky beyond, 
and the sea-line looked to come on either hand to the ship’s side 
thirty feet below her forecastle deck; but in an instant the hollow 
received the crushing and sheering stem, when down would drop 
the metal bows until the sinuous horizon stood to the height of a 
man above the forecastle head, and the deck there seemed to stoop 
to tlie volume of the blue billow with the flatness of a spoon. It 
was a fine sight, this rising and plunging, with the alterations of 
light and shadow, and the splendor of the sun-bright dazzle of 
white waters flung in enormous polished curves from the vessel’s 
sides. It is impossible to express the sense of freedom, the joyous 


122 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


feeling of quickened vitality you got from this spectacle of defiant 
and rending and pitching fabric and the wild beauty of the proces- 
sions of azure ridges offering a sort of hurdles to the speeding ves- 
sel, and the magnitude of the distant scene of weltering waters slop- 
ing their furrows to a sky of delicate blue, made piebald by masses 
of cloud flying upward out of the ocean, and soaring over our mast- 
heads and vanishing in the tail of our streaming wake. 

One sees many things to look at and to find amusement in on 
board an ocean passenger ship. The show of human nature is not, 
indeed, great; perfectly natural people are not very common either 
on sea or on shore, and voyages are scarcely long enough nowa- 
days to suffer the mind to lapse into ingenuousness. Yet an attent- 
ive observer will often see human nature breaking out here and 
there, chiefly in unexpected places One thing I noticed : the pride 
of fathers and husbands in the children and wives they left behind 
them. A man would come up to you and break off in his chat to 
put his hand in his pocket and produce a little packet of photo- 
graphs — his wife and his children, and particularly the baby — and 
though there might be nothing remarkable to admire in the little fat 
object, the sight of whose portrait put a kind of wistfulness into the 
father’s eyes as he glanced at it a moment before returning it to his 
pocket, yet the tenderness of the thing touched and pleased you. It 
would take a long time to bring a man into this state of communi- 
cativeness on shore; but the feeling of distance and of isolation is 
strong at sea, and thoughts of home and the dear ones there will 
thaw the iciest reserve, and put a gentleness into the roughest and, 
raise a spirit of kindliness and good-will fore and aft. 

Very often things which are utterly trivial of themselves fix the 
attention at sea, and prove a lively recollection long after memory 
has abandoned points which at the time seemed striking and singu- 
lar. I will give an illustration of my meaning. Captain Travers 
had, as I have elsewhere said, a little hand-organ that manufactured 
music by rolling in or out a length of paper with the punctured 
notes of the tunes upon it. He was one day playing this contriv- 
ance in the chart-house, and almost opposite the door there stood 
an old quartermaster stitching canvas on to a piece of rope to serve 
as a gangwa}” line or something of that kind. The sailor’s face was 
the sourest I ever saw; it was full of twists and knobs, and his eyes 
were but a trifle larger than pins’ heads — mere natural punctures 
for the admission of light. You could not watch his acid counte- 
nance without suspecting the grumbling character of his thoughts. 
He gave me the impression of being one of those sailors who go on 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


123 


sulkily with their work while they mentally, and with much acer- 
bity, criticise the captain and the passengers. “Oh, yes,” I can 
imagine the old fellow saying, “ I don’t doubt it is veiy comforta- 
ble to be lying along upon a cheer readin’ excitin’ books, sleepin’ 
whenever ye has a mind to it, watchin’ of the sailors setting of the 
awning, and making a shadow for ye. to lie cool in. But who's us, 
1 should like to know, that the job should be ourn for making peo- 
ple we never seed afore and will never see ag’in comfortable and 
easy?” And so he goes on growling, but all the while working the 
harder; for the greater the grumbler, says the old sea adage, the 
better the sailor. This old quartermaster went on stubbornly with 
his work, listening to the music Captain Travers was making, and 
sneering at it in his fashion by an enforced sourness of face — and 
by taking apparently a profounder interest in the fit of the canvas 
he was adapting to the rope. But it would not do. Some melody 
— “ Tom Bowling ” or “ Sally in our Alley ” — struck upon mem- 
ory, and excited a pleasurable emotion; the corners of his mouth 
straightened; a dim sort of smile came sifting, so to speak, out 
through his wrinkles and warts; recollections, perhaps, of some 
cozy bar in times long distant, when life was young, when his 
pocket was lined with dollars, when drink was good, and his voice 
a hurricane note, arose in him. He smiled, and his smile will pos- 
sibly recur to me when I shall in vain endeavor to recall things very 
much more important than an elderly quartermaster’s slow and 
acidulated grin. 

It was a touch, indeed, that would have delighted Dana. There 
is a passage in that writer in which much such another old sailor as 
this sour-faced quartermaster is represented as leaning over the fly- 
ing jibboom and muttering to liimself, as he gazes aloft at the sails 
rendered stirless by the wind and marble like by the moonlight, 

‘ ‘ How quietly they do their work. ’ ’ 

Let landsmen think as they will— there is still a vein of sentiment 
left in the most dogged and growling of mariners. Captain Trav 
ers, maneuvering with his queer little organ in the chart-house, un- 
consciously succeeded in raising emotions which he would probably 
have been the last to suspect as possible in the mind of the puckered 
old salt, who with palm and needle stood a fathom or two away, 
sullenly stitching canvas to a rope. Would that Richard Dana had 
been alive to observe that sailor’s face, and describe it! 

Such are the trivialities which at sea furnish memories for shore- 
going leisure. And yet another reflection-due to our skirting the 
burning African soil in a passage rendered sweet withal and de- 


124 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


licious to every sense, and full of subtle powers for stirring the 
weakest vitality into full vigor and large capacity for enjoyment by 
the pure and blowing wind. I mean this; that it was impossible to 
look over the side, to feel the glorious breeze full upon the cheek and 
whistling through the teeth, to understand that the roasting African 
coast was, comparatively speaking, but a few leagues distant, with 
out thinking of those British sailors whose stern duty it is to watch 
over the interests of our country in the torrid climes between Sal- 
danha Bay and Sierra Leone, and even further. On board an ocean 
steamer, always making a breeze of wind by her rapid progress, or 
stemming the invigorating gushings of the south-east Trades, with 
awnings protecting her decks fore and aft, with ports wide open, 
with many tons of ice in her hold, and with a bar at which all day 
long you may get cool drinks passing under fifty names, it is not 
very easy to realize the lot of naval officers and men anchored with- 
in an easy run of the spot through which your steamer is sweeping, 
or creeping in gun-boats or small corvettes from one fiery coast vil- 
lage to another. At Cape Town I met a lieutenant of a well known 
vessel that had been stationed for many months upon the barbarous 
African coast. His little ship had just arrived at Simon’s Bay, and 
this officer, a fine, hearty, genial fellow, had come to the old Cape 
Settlement for a day or two to enjoy himself and forget, if he could, 
life on shipboard on the West African station. He was burned up 
to the complexion of a colored man, and told me some desperate 
stories of the sick list and of fever, of fifteen grains of quinine for a 
dose, of horrible, morbid thoughts causing a man as he lies in his 
coffin of a cabin, reeking with cockroaches, to cast his languid gaze 
about in search of any implement to end his life. I remember when 
we met that it was a beautiful moonlight ‘night; the air was de- 
liciously cool; a light breeze coming in soft gusts down Table 
Mountain shook many sweet odors from trees of the drooping moon- 
lily and from the red petals of the oleander, silvered by the moon 
gleams. The lieutenant stood awhile in a kind of rapture, with his 
hands clasped. The posture and the emotion were absolutely un- 
affected. He breathed deep, and exclaimed, “ I have not set my 
foot off the ship for seven months. ’ You may conceive what this 
scene means to me.” He behaved like a man in a dream. Before 
parting we entered a little drawing-room, where there was a piano. 
He turned to me with a smile, and said, “ Time was when I could 
play this thing. I wonder if West Africa has left any music in me!” 
He sat down and strummed over a tune or two, and you saw how 
the very sound of the melodies affected him, and how they carried 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


125 


him many thousands of miles away home to where his wife and his 
little children were. To watch him getting up and looking at the 
piano was like seeing a shipwrecked, stranded man welcoming 
some sign of life and of help washing up to him. It gave me a bet- 
ter idea of the true signification of banishment to the West African 
coast than I could have gathered from a whole volume of descrip- 
tion. “ He also serves who only stands and waits,” says Milton, in 
one of the sublimest of his sonnets; and it is not necessary that 
there should be war to test the courage, the dutifulness, and won- 
derful capacity of self-sacrifice of the queen’s sailor."^ 

But this by the way. Meanwhile the “Tartar,” snorting like a 
race-horse over the hurdles of billows which the glad and sunny 
south-east wind heaves foaming against her course, offers other pict- 
ures of sea- life outside the charms of the freedom you must go to 
old ocean to taste and enjoy. The smoking-room of large passenger 
steamers usually submits some amusing if not very edifying studT 
ies. In times not long since past the smoking-room of the sailing 
liner such as left the Mersey or the East India docks for Australia 
or India was commonly to be found, if the vessel had a poop, just 
under the break of it. The amount of comfort you found there de- 
pended a good deal on the weather. The cabins projecting on either 
hand, the cuddy entrance formed a sort of hollow, and one could 
smoke a pipe in the shelter when the ship was hove to and a gale of 
wind blowing without great risk of the bowl being emptied of its 
glowing contents a moment or two after the tobacco had been light- 
ed But the nook was not altogether luxurious. I remember once 
running before a gale of wind round the Horn to the eastward. 
Mountainous seas followed the ship, and swelled their roaring 
heights to flush with the topgallant rail as they rushed ahead of the 
flying vessel. Half a dozen first class passengers had assembled for 
a smoke under the break of the poop, when on a sudden, through 
the clumsy steering of the helmsman, a high, green sea tumbled 
over the rail just before the main rigging, filled the waist, and 
floated the smokers ofi their feet. They knocked together like so 
many empty bottles; pipes were dropped in order that life might 
be saved; and, while one man was washed head-over- heels down 
the booby-hatch, some were picked up stranded under the long-boat 


* And not only the sailor. An officer in the Royal Engineers to whom I w'as 
speaking about the West Coast said, “ Yes; but what do you think I When we 
were in Bechuanaland the general ordered us to be clothed in corduroy ! Cor- 
duroy, with the heat under canvas at 110 degrees! Such corduroy as an English 
laborer goes to work in on a frosty mo: nii.g . ’ 


126 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


and others were found helplessly jammed under the port poop lad- 
der. The modern traveler, accustomed to the luxurious fittings of 
a house on deck, specially prodded for him when he feels the need 
of a pipe or a cigar, might hardly relish the old order of things; and 
yet there were moments in the smoking-room of the “Tartar” 
when I would recur not without a slight emotion of wistfulness to 
the breeziness of the ancient quarter-deck, with all its risks of green 
seas and roof-like angles. 

It was a room usually very crowded, and all day long you would 
find parties of men in it playing “Nap.” “ Nap,” to these gentle- 
men, dominated the whole business of the voyage. Glorious effects 
of sunset, the grace and splendor of bounding seas, the tranquillity 
of the tropical night so studded with stars that overhead it was like 
looking at a sheet of silver cloth twinkling to the slow hovering of 
its folds, the solemn music of breaking waters, the wild and fasci- 
nating evolutions of the sea-bird, were all subordinated to “ Nap.” 
“ Nap ” triumphed over considerations of weakened lungs, of rheu- 
matic limbs, of dyspeptic troubles, and of general debility. With 
streaming foreheads, roasted countenances, and panting bosoms, 
with pipes and cigars in their mouths, the players would sit on, 
happen what might and be the scene without what it would, their 
outlines slowly waning in the ever-thickening atmosphere. There 
would come times, however, when the heat was so great that men 
would be glad to lose their money in order to step out and breathe. 
One afternoon— it was a very hot day — I looked into the smoking- 
room, and found two Scotchmen playing at chess; they wore coats 
and had their hats on. I sat a little while watching their motion- 
less posture; they were absolutely stirless, save for now and again 
the thoughtful lifting of the hand of the one who had to play and 
the dropping of it again to his side. The intentness of their specu- 
lative stare caused a slight protrusion of their eyeballs, and I con- 
fess they formed a curious and almost exciting study. The heat 
drove me away; when I returned I found they had removed their 
hats, but were still motionlessly watching the chess board, and it 
was evident that the player whose hand I had watched* rising or 
falling had not yet attempted a move. Again I was driven away 
and again returned, this time lialf an hour later, when I found the 
two Scotchmen seated without their coats, waistcoats, or boots; they 
glistened with heat drops; nevertheless, they sat stirlessly watching 
the chess-board, and, incredible as it may seem, yet when I asked a 
gentleman, who, with a patience that rivaled that of the players, 
was watching the game, whose move it was, he indicated the Scotch- 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


127 


man whose epileptic arm still assured me that an hour and a half 
was not time enough to enable him to consider what he should do! 
Such a game as this would fill up three or four round voyages. So 
much reflection as these Scotchmen exhibited should, I think, be- 
come in a short time a sort of physical suffering in them, and when 
1 recall the equatorial heat, the adjacency of the galley with its lit- 
tle furnace and its range of frothing saucepans, the stri*ug vibra- 
tions of the engines almost directly beneath, and the waftings of 
warm oil that occasionally drifted through a window facing the 
funnel, I am lost in wonder that these two persons should ever have 
survived to finish the game. 

But a last day comes at sea as it comes ashore. We had swept 
through the brisk pouring of the southerly wind, for hour after 
hour had crushed with indomitable stem through the melting 
heights of the long ocean surge, and in smoother waters and athwart 
a light westerly wind were fast closing the land. It was easy to 
know, without guessing the position of the ship, that Table Bay 
was not far off. The demeanor of the passengers sufficiently at- 
tested this. At least'you would have found the truth distinctly re- 
corded in the looks and behavior of those who were returning to 
their families. Those families lived mainly, no doubt, far inland, 
in all sorts of places — Pretoria, Kimberley, Bloemfontein, King 
William’s Town, Durban, Port Elizabeth, and who can tell where 
else? — prodigious journeys of themselves, as a home-dweller might 
guess when he should hear of the leagues of coasting past L ’Agul- 
has, or the weary railway journey of fifteen miles an hour, with 
two or three hundred miles afterward of coaches, bullock- wagons, 
and mule-trains. But the mere sense of approaching port gave a 
definiteness to home yearnings such as had not been very noticeable 
during the voyage. What was the health of the wife? How were 
the little ones? What had happened since the last news from home 
had been received? These things— and how much else? — remained 
to be discovered; and the captain, coming into the saloon and tell- 
ing the passengers that he hoped to make llobben Island Light by 
midnight, gave such a start to the general restlessness that many 
wfiio had been driven from the deck by Uie dirty, lukewarm drizzle 
of the evening went with a sort of feverishness to the companion- 
steps, and could not be persuaded to remain dry until the light was 
actually reported. 

Dr. Samuel Johnson, when breakfasting once with Boswell, tried 
to thunder his companion down for suggesting that a man, separated 
from his family, might be rendered uneasy by wondering how they 


128 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


were doing, whether they were sick or well. The doctor would not 
have this. A man had no right to be uneasy. Sir, he ought to 
consider. He knew he was well, and it was unphilosophical to con- 
ceive that those who were distant were not well too. No, sir! Sup- 
posing a man well, would it not l>e unreasonable for his absent 
family to make themselves miserable by fearing that he might be 
ill?* But, for all that, Boswell was right, and the fears and the 
anxieties of the passengers of every ship that enters port disprove 
the old lexicographer’s notion as to the right of a man to feel un- 
easy about loved ones to whom he is returning, and of whom he 
has not had news for weeks. 

Robben Island Light hove into view earlier than the skipper had 
expected, and when the report came that it was to be seen glimmer- 
ing down on the port bow there was a rush on deck. Tlie drizzle 
had settled away, but the night was still dark. After you have 
been at sea for many days without sighting land the gleam of a 
light-house, of any shore signal, momentarily affects you as nothing 
else does that offers itself on the horizon. Darkness shrouds the 
scene in mystery: the sky is starless, and the eye instantly catches 
the tiny distant yellow flame that marks the presence of land. The 
sea heaves around with the powerful lifting swell of the unfathomed 
deep as though you were in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; yet 
the light assures you that the coast is close aboard. Daylight might 
reveal the outline of mountains towering far inland, the ivory-like 
splendor of white sand, the commotion of billows savagely frothing 
about the stubborn sides of black and fang-like rocks; but all is 
hidden save that little light. Not far beyond it, you may know, 
there lies a populous town, where the electric light streams sun-like 
inS^ the still waters of a bay, where the hill-sides re-echo the busy 
hum of life in streets crowded with vehicles, in pavements filled 
with people, in shops full of the radiance of gas-light and oil. But 
the night lies black and heavy without; the engines champ and 
throb in their iron dungeon; the night wind is full of complaining 
noises as it sweeps through the rigging; the washing of the bow 
wave is still as it has been for days and days, and there is nothing 
in all this universe of gloom to tell you that the last evening has 

* I wrote this from memory. On turning to Boswell, I find this: “ I expressed • 
to him a weakness of mind which I could not help; an uneasy apprehension 
that my wife and children, who were at a great distance from me, might, per- 
haps, be ill. ‘ Sir,’ said he, ‘ consider how foolish you would think it in them to 
be apprehensive that i/oit are ill.’ This sudden turn relieved me for the mo- 
ment; but I afterward perceived it to be an ingenious fallacy.” 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


129 


come, that the passage to the Cape of Good Hope is very nearly 
over, save that tiny light burning steadfastly far away down there 
■over the port bow. 

But it is an assurance strong enough; the very waiters drop their 
work to run into the alley-way, as it is called, and look at the light. 
In a few minutes, another gleam to starboard is descried, and the 
news swiftly passes round that it is the mail boat homeward bound. 
We are doing thirteen knots, and she is probably approaching at the 
same speed, and at the rate of twenty-six nautical miles an hour we 
are not long in coming abreast of each other. There is nothing to 
be seen of her but a stream of illuminated ports a mile or so distant 
in the darkness; but when she is fairly abeam of us we break into 
fire- works; tell her who we are»with signals of brilliant colors; and 
once again our steamer is made to stand out against the ebony 
gloom in lines of glittering blue and red. The passing vessel re- 
sponds with a display of a like kind, but by the time the last port 
fire has gushed its cataract of blazing spangles over her side she is 
on our quarter, her cabin-lights wink and vanish, and she disap- 
pears as utterly as if she had foundered headlong. 

But the lookout on deck is cheerless; the thin drizzle has set in 
again; the engines have been slowed, and we are not likely to enter 
Table Bay much before two o’clock in the morning. There is 
nothing to sit up for; nothing to see on such a night as this when 
we enter the bay; so at eight bells I go below to bed, and on waking 
up I find I have been disturbed by the sudden death-like stillness of 
the engines, by the motionlessness of the huge fabric upon a lake-like 
sheet of water, and by the plunge of the anchor striking ground for 
the first time after many days of continuous steaming. Half asleep, 
I throw a languid glance through the open scuttle and perceive the 
bright electric lights of the docks, casting shafts of silver into the 
dark surface beneath; but there is little besides to see, so to bed 
again until dawn, when I hope to get my first view of Table Bay 
by the light of the early sun. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

• TABLE BAY. 

There is grandeur in the beauty of Table Bay as you survey it 
from the spot where the ocean steamers drop anchor before entering 
the docks. The notion among Europeans of South African scenery 
is that of leagues of roasting white sands, with an inland flatness of 


130 


A yOTAGE TO THE CAPE. 


parched and stunted vegetation. This delusion is largely owing ta 
the accounts sailors have given of their shipwreck on the xVfrican 
coast. In all the old stories it is always mile upon mile of sand, 
with nothing in view but the distant figures of a horde of Arabs or 
nude barbarians, restlessly awaiting an opportunity to pounce down 
upon poor Jack, strip him of his boots and jacket, and carry him 
off, secured to the tail of a camel, into captivity to some village of 
small huts, filled with sable ladies and pickaninnies, ordinarily 
about five hundred miles inland, and, therefore, a very long aud 
thirsty walk for the castaway mariner. The truth is, the coast of 
Africa, certainly in its southern parts, abounds in man^ beautiful 
bays, enriched with romantic scenery, and ennobled by towering 
mountains, near or distant. • 

Table Bay is an example. You get something of the impression 
of Avonder that is produced by Sydney Harbor when you enter this 
bay for the first time. The mountains lifting their eternal heads, 
crowned Avith snow-white A-^apor, giA^'e a majesty to the perspective. 
The water of the bay is of an exquisitely soft blue. At the base of 
that grand and picturesque height named the Lion’s Head you see 
the houses standing like toys, white as peeled almonds, while the 
surf gleams in masses upon the beach, beautified with the greenery 
of gardens just beyond. The mountain-sides seem draped in vel- 
vets of green and brown. It is the purity and transparency of the 
atmosphere that imparts this surprising softness of tone. .You 
specially note the charming efiect in the view of the Hottentots 
Holland Mountains, which, even in their dim distance, gather a sort 
of richness to their azure tint and fascinate the eye with a cloud-like 
tenderness, bland as the shining fullness of sAvelling summer A^apoi* 
slowly sailing above the horizon on the wind, but with a sky-line 
too cleanly cut and too deliberately fantastic in its irregularity to be 
mistaken for anything but the high sierra of a range of lofty 
mountains. 

The many colors of that morning supplied me Avith just such a 
picture of Cape Town as one would most like to see. From the 
flat summit of Table Mountain, Avhere the white vapor was begin- 
ning to boil against the unspeakable blue of the sky beyond, the 
gaze descended into the dark violet shadows of solemn ra\dnes, into 
the tAvilight of deep scars, past the metallic luster of groups of 
silver trees, the vivid green of tracts of vine bushes, while now and 
again a large cloud-shadoAv swept a sort of faint, purple light over 
the sun-touched patches of red soil, of granite-like prominences, and 
of abrupt falls of rock bronzed in their massive fronts as though the 


A VOYAGE TO TPIE CAPE. 


131 


band of old Time had coated them with iron— I say, the gaze de- 
scending those heights of nearly four thousand feet, came to a most 
lovely grouping of houses, low-roofed, windows shining, with much 
shrubbery between, and verandas veiling the white fronts with a 
delicate dusk. In the foreground were the docks, with the heavy 
spars of a man-of-war or two giving a density to the complex 
tracery of the lighter masts and rigging of merchant vessels and 
steamers. A red powder-flag, pulling at the mast-head of a small 
vessel anchored close in, sufficed to give a sharp distinctness to the 
houses on a line with it on the hill-side. It was a contrast, indeed, 
to lend to distance the precision you obtain by looking through a 
lens; and all other colors I noticed produced the same effect, such 
as a red funnel, the American stars and stripes, the English ensign 
floating at a peak. 

And still a wonderful complexity of tints took the eye as it swept 
round the margin of the bay past Woodstock, with its foreground 
of pleasure-boats and quaintly imagined bathing-machines, and the 
dingy red of the soil on the mountains, and the windmill, bold 
against the airy azure of the far-inland heights. The water always 
came in a brilliant hue to the throbbings of its own surf upon the 
shore of dazzling sand, of shining houses, of little spaces of soft 
green, and the mighty flanking of the cathedral mountains. 

But the magic that works so much of beauty here can neither 
be expressed nor suggested. I speak of the enchantment of the 
radiant atmosphere. Nothing is lost in this marvelous transparency, 
and you think of the towns and plains at a dreamlike distance away 
inland that would be visible to you from the commanding altitude 
of Table Mountain if those stately peaks, lying fifty miles distant, 
did not barricade tlie regions beyond them with their mystical alti- 
tudes. 

In the days preceding the Suez Canal, and when sailing-ships 
were making the* voyage to Australia and India, Table Bay was a 
Tnucli more familiar sight to Englishmen than it now is. Vessels 
auII of passengers were repeatedly calling here for one reason or an- 
other, and the impressions people received they carried away and 
talked about at home and elsewhere. It is seldom nowadays that 
you see the big passenger sailing-ship in the bay. Reports come 
from L’Agulhas of many kinds of craft passing that stormy point; 
but the times are gone when the cold blue waters of this splendid 
haven reflected the checkered sides and the burnished masts of tall 
ships which had dropped anchor here as a place of call and a break 
in the tediousness of four or five months of passage to Australian 


132 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


coasts or to the hot regions of the north of the Indian Ocean, 
Hence, often as the scene has been described, I may yet, perhaps, 
’■with a reasonable amount of conscience, venture to offer a sketch 
of Table Bay and of its town and neighborhood as they now are. 

I must confess that all the while that I remained in Cape T^own I 
was never weary of admiring the scenery of its noble tract of 
waters, of the bright mountain-shadowed bays, and the granite 
giants which looked down upon the town. The dock officials very 
kindly placed a small steamer at my disposal for a trip, and, in 
company with several gentlemen, I made one of the most delightful 
little voyages that can be imagined. To as far as Camp’s. Bay we 
opened a hundred beauties. The mountains forever accompanied 
us. Go where we would their dominating presence was a mighty 
shadow in the heavens. To me, Table Mountain looked like the 
ruins of some immense cathedral raised by hands in days when there 
were Titans in the land. From the center of the bay it resembles 
the remains of a vast wall, and round the slope of the Lion’s Head 
you seem to find the theory of giants having constructed this amaz- 
ing edifice confirmed by vast blocks of rock and granite which 
might well pass for the head stones and church-yard memorials of 
the burial-ground of a vanished colossal race. It is here especially 
that you observe a hundred startling fantasies in the shapes and 
postures of these stones, prone or upright; enormous owls, parrots’ 
heads on human figures, cowled monks of huge stature, prodigious 
women in drapery, carved, as one might suppose, to perfection. 
You would say, indeed, that the remains of giants reposed upon 
this rocky, massive slope, that their sportive fancies were perpetu- 
ated in these wild and grotesque shapes, just as traces of their seri- 
ous and splendid genius remained in the spacious front of a mount- 
ain, cathedral-like in its immensity, and to this day reverberating 
the old giant organ-notes of praise in the low melodious thunder of 
every blast sweeping down the sheer abrupt from' the white cloud 
resting upon its brow. 

It is the cloud, the “ table-cloth,” as it is called, that gives to 
Table Mountain and to the mighty sentinels that stand on either 
hand of it much of the wonder and not a little even of the magnifi 
cence you find in them. It was my fortune to witness many exhi- 
bitions of this majestic and lovely phenomenon. The sky-Jine of 
the towering height lies with extraordinary sharpness against the 
liquid sapphire of the heavens beyond; when suddenly, almost in 
the space of a breath, you might say, a wreath or two of mist, shin- 
ing with the iridescence of a cobweb to llie*sun, are seen crawling 


A TOYACtE to the cape. 


133 


along the brow, as though steam from some natural spring were 
breaking out up there. Till now there is not a breath of air. 
The flowers hang sick in the heat; you see the distant horizon 
working sinuously in the blue roasting haze like the outline of a 
sei-pent, or of the sea-line Mflien a heavy swell is running; the soft 
white mist on the mountain-top gathers in volume; presently the 
low moaning of wind is heard, the vapor begins to boil like the foot 
of a cararact, and the mist, resembling lace in its festooning, or 
clouds of spray swept by a gale from the heads of high seas, drops 
a little way below the mountain’s edge. As the cloud grows the 
marvel and beauty of the sight increase. It is a sort of Niagara 
Falls of vapor, but a miracle is wrought in the evanishment of the 
steam-white cloud when it reaches depths of varying measurement 
below the brow of the mountain. The perpetual boiling of this 
white smother, the ceaseless, torrent-like cascading of it down the 
precipitous side, the blue of the sky beyond it, and the stormy yell- 
ing of the wind in the scores of ravines and chasms through which 
it rushes screaming and shouting in its flight from this pouring 
radiant cloud, combine to produce an impression which a man may 
travel many a long year to gain the like of. 

I once stood looking at this mountain on a clear moonlight night, 
when the whole face of the prodigious rock was obscured by vapor. 
The moon rode high, and shone full upon the picture with the 
gem-like, piercing brilliance you get in orbs in the southern hemi- 
sphere. The wind thundered down the mountain, and the raging 
of the trees all about filled the ear with a sound of maddened surf. 
It was a contrast of utter mockery— -these tempestuous ravings 
under the serene night sky, with its low-lying stars twinkling in 
blues and greens, and its central space of mist-like effulgence with 
the heavenly moon, queen of the lovely night, in the heart of it. 
Many dim veins of color, reminding one of a lunar rainbow, shifted 
and w^orked in this vast, vaporous, snowy veil. Now and again the 
fury of the wind would rend the cloud in places and leave visible a 
point, a fragment of outline, a sheer edge of the infolded mountain, 
black as ebony in these chasms opening amid whiteness. Another 
time I stood at sundown watchiitg the bronzing of this cloud by the 
brassy luminary sinking in a heaven of orange beyond the Lion’s 
Head. It is, indeed, impossible to express all the effects of shadow 
and of lovely prismatic light that you get from the gathering of this 
vaporous falling and whirling cloth upon the flat heights of the 
famous eminence. It is the general magnificence here that fixes the 
attention of one fresh to the scene. Tlic mountains are giants, and 


134 


A TOY AGE TO THE CAPE. 


in the distance you behold visionary outlines soaring Andean-like 
to the pale blue beyond, penetrating the clouds and rising seven 
thousand feet heavenward. The breakers as they roll into Camp’s 
Bay and the rocky windings beyond have the true Pacific stature, 
and swell their glittering peaks green as bottle glass in correspond- 
ence with the enormous acclivities at whose feet they roll their 
thunder and their foam. 

While taking that cruise about the bay which I have just now 
mentioned, I came across a ship that I would not very willingly 
have missed. She was an American whaler, and had been out for 
twenty-two months bagging whales in about latitude 42*^ S. She 
had eight hundred barrels of oil aboard, and was certainly one of 
the queerest and rustiest old hulls I ever had the fortune to en 
counter. I was told that whalers are rare birds in Table Ba}’- now- 
adays, though in former times they were plentiful enough. I kept 
the steamer alongside of her for some time that I might inspect her. 
Her metal sheathing was green as grass, and you saw the barnacles 
upon it through the transparency a little way below to where the 
sheathing came. The large blocks employed in “ cutting in ” had 
scraped her sides clean all about her gangway, and grievously worn 
them. She appeared to have worked half the oakum out of her, 
and her seams were hollow. Her name was the “ Sea Queen,” 
Joseph Thompson, master, and she hailed, as might easily have been 
conjectured, from New Bedford. Boats exhibiting every symptom 
of hard wear stood bottom up on chocks, or hung from massive 
wooden davits over the side. Dirt and grime lay thick on the scut- 
tles. The name of Herman Melville rose to my tongue as I looked 
at her, and at her short topgallant masts and crowfoot rings over 
the topgallant rigging for the men to keep a lookout from. No one 
who had read “ Omoo,” or ” The Whaler,” or “ T}q)ee,” and saw 
this ship, but must have thought of the brilliant Yankee sea-yarner. 
The “Sea Queen” was just such another old hooker as brought 
Melville away as a beach-comber from the Marquesas. As I stood 
looking at the row of heads over the rail, I thought to myself, 
“ Surely the right name for this craft must be the ‘Little Jule,’ 
and if Mr. Jermin, the chief mate, i^ aboard, I will ask him to show 
me that wonderful sextant with which at noon, when slightly the 
worse for rum, he would go hunting for the sun all over his grass- 
covered decks. ” 

There is a pleasure in the unexpected confrontment of the per- 
fect realization of some visionary favorite in a w^ork of fiction. I 
have met Bumble and Noah Claypole, and I have shaken hands 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


ISo 


with Parson Adams and Dr. Primrose. Here noAv was the “ Little 
Jule ” lying in Table Bay under the name of the “ Sea Queen.” 
She carried thirty of a crew; they all came to the rail to look at us, 
and I heartily wish some artist had been of our party to jot down 
with his pencil the delightful variety of countenance and of cos- 
tume exhibited by that array of whalers. There were white men 
and black men, and men whose faces were all hair, and who looked 
like sailors striving to peer through a mat. There 'were Dutch 
faces and Yankee faces; faces which might have been carved out of 
a balk of timber, and faces of the hue of the sliip’s bread, which I 
suspect could have been found crawling about on the legs of in- 
numerable weevils in the little barky’s lazarette. There were four 
harpooners, and they came over the side and exhibited the brass 
muskets or guns with which nowadays they kill whales by firiug 
explosives into them, though, of course, the old-fashioned harijoon 
is carried in plenty, and repeatedly used. Each tub of oil, they told 
me, contained three hundred and ten gallons, and as they had eight 
hundred such tubs filled up in their hold, and as, moreover, they 
had only been twenty-two months cruising out of the forty months’ 
voyage their owners had limited them to, there was a good chance 
of every man’s ” lay ” ending in a big pocketful of dollars. One 
might live a hundred years and yet never come across so quaint, 
old, battered, and grimy a whaler as fhis “ Sea Queen,” fresh as she 
was from nearly two years’ washing about in search of prey south 
of the Cape of Good Hope. 

The sight was one to stir the fancy, and I certainly found no 
great extravagance of imagination in the sudden arising in me of 
thoughts of the “Flying Dutchman,” out of that wallowing old 
whaler from which our little steamer was now speeding. If Table 
Bay and all about the Cape of Good Hope be not the right neigh- 
borhood wherein to dream and think of the Phantom Ship, I know 
not what other parallels to choose. It was in the teeth of one of 
the wild north- westers you get in these seas that Skipper Vander- 
decken swore his dreadful and lamentable oath not to give up try- 
ing to weather the stormy headland even though he should have to 
wait till the Day of Judgment came. Did the Dutchman, ere he 
hurled his fierce defiance to Heaven, ever bring up .in Table Bay? 
Xo doubt he did. He Avas from Batavia, and there is yet living an 
ancient Hollander who, when a boy, remembered his great-grand- 
father telling how once Vanderdecken, when outward bound to 
Batavia, had called at Table Bay for fruit and tobacco. It was dur- 
ing his return voyage to Bata\ ia, after his visit to Table Bay, that 


13G 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


the skipper provoked the Divine wrath by his imprecations. The 
ancient Hollander’s great-grandfather lived long after Yancler- 
decken had been sighted struggling to windward, and this it was 
that impressed upon the recollection of the Dutch grandsire the 
picture of the ship he had seen straining at her hemp cable a little 
to the westward of where the breakwater now is. 

The “ Flying Dutchman ” is described as having a very curious 
low- built bow, with a mass of timbers curving at the head to the 
immensely thick cutwater. Her bowsprit is sheered to an angle of 
forty-five degrees; at the end of it is a round top, and standing per- 
pendicularly up out of this top is a small mast with another top at 
the head of it, big enough to admit of its occupation by two or three 
men. A heavy, very square yard hangs by lifts under the bow- 
sprit, and on the little perpendicular mast she carries what may be 
called a spritsail yard, the foot of whose sail spreads on the j^ard 
beneath. She has topsail and topgallant yards, with large round 
tops at the head of her lower masts, and smaller tops, but of a like 
character, at her topmast’s heads, instead of cross-trees. She has a 
very lofty stern, with a kind of castle at the after end of the poop, 
wiiere the taffrail should be; and it is here where Vanderdecken 
takes his stand, trumpet in hand, w^hen a vessel heaves in sight and 
he desires to speak her. Her mizzen-mast rakes aft, and carries a 
triangular sail set on a gaff , with another jib-headed sail that sets 
ffy ng outside. The break of the poop comes to before the main- 
mast, so that that spar- pierces the poop-deck, while the athwart- 
ship-rail sets up, so to speak, on either hand the main-mast. The 
high bulwarks end abruptly just abaft the fore-rigging. She is 
pierced for eight guns, but it is not certainly known whether she 
still carries the quaint old pieces that grinned in her heyday through 
her ports. The ancient Dutchman affirmed that his great-grand- 
father used to say she was painted a pale yellow. Time, probably, 
has left to the struggling fabric but little of her old garnishings. 
There can be no doubt, how^ever, that the above description is that 
of Vanderdecken ’s ship that sailed from Batavia for Holland in or 
about the year 1641 on a voj’-age which, through the wickedness of 
her profane master, will never come to an end as long as old ocean 
continues to roll.* 

* I\Iarryat, in his “ Phantom Ship,” gives the following description of a vessel 
of the time of Vanderdecken: ” There was a great spring in all her decks— that 
is to say, she ran with a curve forward and aft. On her forecastle another small 
deck ran from the knight-heads, which was called the topgallant-forecastle. 
Jier quarter-deck was broken with a. poop which rose high out of the water. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


137 


1 made many inquiries while at Cape Town as to whether there 
■were any traditions in the neighborhood of Vanderdecken having 
been sighted, but nobody seemed to know much about him, and if it 
had not been for the old Dutchman I should not have been able to 
describe her. I have ascertained, however, that there is no founda- 
tion for the statement that Vanderdecken w^as fired upon b}^ the 
Dutch while seeking to enter Table Bay during the winter season,^ 
a period of the year when no vessel was alloweed to approach Cape 
Town. It is quite inconsistent with the old tradition to pretend 
that in consequence of being fired upon the skipper put to sea and 
was lost. A harsh judgment, indeed, that should compel the 
phantom of a ship, whose only sin w'as that she foundered, to go on 
sailing about forever. It is well known that the sole reason Yan- 
derdecken has for hailing a ship is that he may send a boat with let- 
ters for the home that he and his crew have not revisited for two 
centuries and a half. The superstition is that if a captain heaves to 
his ship to receive one of these messages from the Dutchman, he 
and his vessel are doomed. In this point lies the real pathos of the 
thing. Poor Vanderdecken and his bald-headed, blear-eyed, and 
tottering sailors are forever yearning to communicate with those 
homes which have long ago ceased to exist, but the mariner, know- 
ing the penalty of accepting the mission, fiies at the approach of the 
phantom ship, which, after a short chase, desolately shifts her helm 
and braces once again sharp up against the visionary gale that pro- 
hibits her from doubling the Cape. 

Many years, I believe, have now elapsed since Vanderdecken was 
last sighted. One of the latest instances I can find is that of the 
man-of-'war “Leven,” commanded by Captain W. F. W. Owen.* 

* Since this was written I find that the phantom ship was sighted by Prince 
Albert Victor and Prince George of "Wales, during their cruise in H.M.S. Bac- 
chante.” Their narrative runs thus: “ July 11 (1881). At four a. m. the “ Flying 
Dutchman ” crossed our bows. A strange red light, as of a phantom ship all 
aglow, in the midst of which light the masts, spars, and sails of a brig two 
himdred yards distant stood out in strong relief as she came up. The lookout 
man on the forecastle reported her as close on the port bow, where also the 
oificer of the watch from the bridge clearly saw her, as did also the quarter- 


The bowsprit staved very much, and was to apjjearance almost as a fourth 
mast ; the more so as she carried a square spritsail and sprit-topsail. On her 
quarter-deck and poop bulwarks were fixed in sockets implements of warfare 
now long in disuse, but what were then known by the names of cohorns and pat- 
teraroes ; they turned round on a swivel, and were pointed by an iron handle 
fixed to the breech. The sail abaft the mizzen-mast (corresponding to the 
spanker or driver of the present day) was fixed upon a lateen yard.” 


138 


A V0YAC4E TO THE CAPE. 


It was on April 6, 1823, when this vessel, being off Danger Point, 
hound to Simon’s Bay, saw the “ Barracouta,” another ship of war, 
two miles or thereabnuts to leeward. This was considered extraor- 
dinaiy, as it was known on board tin; “ Leven ” that the other ves- 
sel’s sailing orders must have dispatched her leagues away from the 
place in which she was now seen. Captain Owen bore down to 
speak, but the other put her helm up, though she was observed 
some time afterward to lower a boat. Next day the “Leven” 
anchored in Simon’s Bay. The “ Barracouta ” arrived a week later 
On inspecting her log, it was seen that she was three hundred miles 
from the spot where it was believed she had been descried. Twice 
the “ Leven ” sighted the phantom ship. On the second occasion 
the Dutchman lowered a boat; but Captain Owen, perfectlj^ aware 
of the penalty that would attend his undertaking the deliveiy of a 
letter for Yanderdecken, packed on canvas and took to his heels as 
fast as his ship would carry him. 

The authority for the following is B. Montgomery Martin, who 
published the statement in 1835. 

“ We had been in ‘ dirty weather,’ as the sailors say, for several 
da3'S, and to beguile the afternoon I commenced after-dinner narra- 
tives to the French officers and passengers (who were strangers to 
the Eastern seas) current about the ‘ Fljdng Dutchman.’ The wind, 
which had been freshening during the evening, now blew a stiff 
gale, and we proceeded on deck to see the crew make our bark all 
snug for the night. The clouds, dark and heavy, coursed with 
rapidit}" across the bright moon, whose luster is so peculiar in the 
southern hemisphere, and we could see a distance of from eight to 
ten miles on the horizon. Suddenl}-, the second officer, a fine ]\[ar- 
seilles sailor, who had been among the foremost in the cabin in 
laughing at and ridiculing the story of the ‘ Fljung Dutchman,’ 


deck midshipman, who was sent forward at once to the forecastle; but on arriv- 
ing there no vestige nor anj' sign whatever of any material ship was to be seen 
either near or I’ight away to the horizon, the night being clear and the sea calm. 
Thirteen persons altogether saw her, but whether it was Van Diemen or the 
Flying Dutchman, or who else, must remain unknown. The “ Tourmaline ” 
and “ Cleopatra,” jvvho were sailing on our starboard bow, flashed to ask 
whether we had seen the strange red light. At 10.45 a. m. the ordinary sea- 
man w’ho had this morning reported the “ Flying Dutchman ” fell from the 
foretopmast crosstrees, and was smashed to atoms. At 4.15 p. m., after quarters, 
W'e hove to with the head-yards aback, and he was buried in the sea. He was a 
smart royal-yardman, and one of the most promising young hands in the ship, 
and every one feels quite sad at his loss. (At the next port we came to the ad- 
miral also was smitten down.)” 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


139 


ascended the weather-rigging, exclaiming, ‘ Yoila le valiant Hoi- 
landais.* The captain sent for his night-glass, and soon observed, 
‘ It is very strange, but there is a ship bearing down upon us with 
all sail set, while we dare scarcely show a pocket-handkerchief to 
the breeze. ’ In a few minutes the stranger was visible to all on deck, 
her rig plainly discernible, and people on her poop; she seemed to 
near us with the rapidity of lightning, and apparently wished to 
pass under our quarter for the purpose of speaking. The captain, 
a resolute Bordeaux mariner, said it was quite incomprehensible, 
and sent for the trumpet to hail or answer, when in an instant, and 
while we were all on the qui vive, the stranger totally disappeared, 
and was seen no more.”* 

Before closing this reference to the most fascinating legend old 
ocean has to offer, I desire to quote a curious passage printed in the 
first edition of the “ Biographia Britannica. ” It runs thus: “ When 
the said Sir Bernard Gascoign returned from his embassy into Eng- 
land he took shipping at Dunkirk; and one of the passengers who 
came over with him was Mrs. Aphra Behn, the ingenius poetess. It 
is asserted by the writer of her life that in the course of their voy- 
age they all saw a surprising phenomenon, whether formed by any 
rising exhalation or descending vapors shaped by the wind and ir- 
radiated by refracting lights, is not explained; but it appeared 
through Sir Bernard’s telescopes in a clear day at a great distance to 
be, or to resemble, a fine, gay, floating fabric, adorned with figures, 
festoons, etc. At first they suspected some art in his glasses, till at 
last, as it approached, they could see it plainly without them; and 
the relater is so particular in his description as to assert that it ap- 
peared to be a four-square floor of various colored marble; having 
rows of fluted and twisted pillars ascending, with Cupids on the 
tops, circled with vines and flower^, and streamers waving in the 
air. ’Tis added of this strange visionary, if not romantic or poet- 
ical pageant, that it floated almost near enough to them to step out 
upon it; as if it would invite them to a safer landing than they 
sought by sailing; or portended that the one should be as dangerous 
and deceitful as the other; for soon after the calm which ensued 
there arose such a violent storm that they were all shipwrecked, 
but happily in sight of the land; to which by timely assistance the}’' 
all got safe.” This happened in or about the year 1672. The eir- 

* Marryat’s version, I think, neutralizes much of the poetry of the beauti- 
ful and romantic legend by representing the expiation of the father through 
the fidelity of the son, and the consequent evanishment of the whole ghostly 
fabric. 


140 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


cumstances of fluted pillars, Cupids, flowers, and the like do not, to 
be sure, accommodate themselves to the historic idea of old Vander 
decken’s craft; yet when we know the belief was that no ship ever 
-sighted the phantom ship without grievous disaster befalling her, it 
really looks as if the Dutch yam were in the mind of the relater of 
Mrs. Aphra Behn’s experience when it is stated that a violent storm 
followed the appearance of the ghostly object, and that the people 
who spied it were all of them shipwrecked. Unless, indeed, which 
is not at all probable, the story of this English Channel vision sug- 
gested the picturesque, immortal tale of the Amsterdam skipper 
and the curse that followed his impious defiance. 


CHAPTER XV. 

CAPE TOWN. 

Sometimes while looking at Table Mountain I would amuse my- 
self with thoughts of taking my stand uj^on the flat summit of that 
gigantic elevation and beholding thence in fancy the wondrous pro- 
cessions of ships which for many a long century now have made 
their way round the Cape of Storms into the mighty Indian Ocean, 
or which, after heading westward, have “ nightly stemmed ” north- 
ward tow'ard the Pole. Imagination might run riot on that tower- 
ing eminence with little risk of violating probability. Gazing north- 
ward from the sunimit of Table Mountain, the eye beholds miles of 
the seaboard to islands on the parallel of Malmesbury. Southward 
the view embraces the dim horizon— infinitely remote — marking 
the junction of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, with a faint shad- 
owing of the land stretching into the veritable Cape of Good Hope 
itself. While westward heaves the great Atlantic deep, rolling a 
surface without break of rock or shore, until its surges wash the 
strand of the far-jutting South American continent. From many 
parts of the earth, and during many ages, ships of all kinds and de- 
scriptions have sailed within compass of the view that may be ob- 
tained from yonder mountain-top. Could the phantoms be evoked, 
what legions of shadows would one behold! the little vessels of 
Henry of Portugal and of John H.; the high -pooped craft com- 
manded by Bartholomew Dias and by Vasco de Gama;* the sturdier 
vessels of the Dutch and English East India Companies yet in their 
infancy. The head of the procession may be said to have started 

De Gama doubled the Cape on the 19th of November, 1497. Dias had pre- 
ceded him by ten years. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


141 


in the fifteenth century, and the long, serpentine coil is still in mo- 
tion, but swelled to such proportions, formed of such ships, that it 
affects the mind with the power of a striking imagination to con- 
ceive of the thoughts that would inspire the early hardy and bold 
admirals in the thin, tossing, picturesque van of the mighty mari- 
time concourse could they gaze upon the rear and behold the char 
acter of the fabrics which crowd it! 

One well acquainted with the history of shipbuilding could find 
no better vantage-ground for appreciation of the changes which 
have been wrought in four centuries than the table-land on the top 
of the great mountain whose outline fills the gaze for leagues and 
leagues. Think of the little bark, with its round tops for the cross- 
bow men, its small brass pieces glittering in holes along the bul- 
warks, its quaintly cut, flowing sails, and antique bravery of pen- 
nons, breasting the seas off that dim Cape of Good Hope away down 
there, alongside the ocean mail steamer of four thousand tons!* In 
truth, a good deal of the charm of Cape Town and Table Bay lies 
in historic association, chiefly marine, and necessarily, therefore, of 
deepest interest to every true-born Englishman. The Dutch are 
not much loved by the colonials here; but all the same, if they are 
not a picturesque people, they have a picturesque history, and not 
a little of the salt and genial romance of their annals enters into as 
much of the story of this Cape settlement as belongs to them. From 
old records you get a score of odd and striking things pertaining to 
the early settlement; such as the announcement of the birth of the 
first child at the Fort of Cape of Good Hope on June 6, 1652; of 
there being found, on April 24, 1654, a dead ourang-outang of the 
size of a calf, with long arms and legs, covered with hair, which 
was cooked and eaten by those who discovered it with great appetite 
and enjoyment; of the arrival of the first cargo of slaves from 
Guinea at the Cape on March 26, 1658; of an unsuccessful attempt 
in 1665 to capture an English man-of-war named the “ King 
Charles ” that had anchored in Table Bay, and so on. 

I was much interested in a volume that was shown to me at the 
library. It contained a folded engraving representing a shipwreck, 
and the printed matter consisted of what resembled columns of a 
newspaper cut out and pasted on blank sheets. The volume is in 
old Dutch, and is as quaint an illustration of the simplicity of those 
times as it is possible to imagine. The preface, roughly translated, 

* The expedition under Vasco de Gama is represented as having been formed 
of three vessels, one of 120 tons, another of 100 tons, and the third about 80 
tons. 


14:2 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


runs thus; “ The picture (the writer is referring to the folded en- 
graving), entitled the ‘ Hero Woltemade,’ shows us the true image 
that was sculptured on the stern of the East India Company’s ship 
named ‘ De Hold Woltemade ’ by order of the honorable directors 
of the East India Company, given in their Chamber at Amsterdam 
The ship was finished on the 30th July of this year, 1775, by that 
very old master shipwright, Willem Teunisz Block, who (which is 
very remarkable and perhaps without example) has finished the one 
hundred and fiftieth ship for the service of the East India Com- 
pany, three small vessels and two ship camels excepted. This ship 
has now been taken to Texel, and will sail for Batavia with the 
Kermis ships under the command of Jan Stil. On her stern is 
found a history of the event which this picture represents engraved 
by the sculptor Hendrick van Velzen.” 

The story referred to in this preface, and of which it seems a pict- 
orial illustration was carved on the stern of a Dutch East Indiaman, 
is (old at great length and with every manifestation of earnest piety 
in the printed matter pasted in the book. Briefly, the yarn is this: 
In 1772, a Dutch East Indiaman, “ De Jonge Thomas,” with three 
hundred people on board, lay in Table Bay. A storm of wind 
came on from the north-west, a heavy sea rolled in, the vessel parted 
and grounded close in shore. An old man, between sixty and sev- 
enty years of age, named Woltemade, formed one of a crowd of 
pf rsons assembled on the beach. Seeing the situation of the sailors, 
he spurred his horse through the surf, shouting for two of the peo- 
ple to jump overboard and seize the horse’s tail, so that he could 
tow them ashore. This was done, and several times the brave old 
fellow rode through the heavy breakers, bringing two persons 
ashore every journey. At last three men jumped overboard, and 
one catching hold of the horse’s bridle dragged the poor brute’s 
head under water and drowned it. The result was Woltemade and 
the three men perished,* 

This record is one of many of a like nature entering into and 

* W^oltemade, says a contemporary account, was at this time the keeper of 
the beasts at the menagerie, near the garden. He had a son who was a 
corporal, and it was this son's horse that the old hero rode. A curious cir- 
cumstance in connection with this wreck is, that in order to save the Com- 
pany’s property (as it came ashore), thirty men were ordered out in charge of 
a lieutenant; further, a gibbet was erected, and an edict issued to the effect that 
w'hoever approached the spot should be forthwith hanged ! Woltemade hap- 
pened to have borrowed his son’s horse very early in the morning before the 
gibbet was erected. The date of this disaster as given in the English accounts, 
is June 2, 1773. 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 143 

■creating the history of Table Bay, while crowding the neighborhood 
with legendary and historic association. Nor can I conceive of any 
sort of traditionary antecedent of which Cape Town, as it now ex- 
ists, is calculated to neutralize the character and the color. The 
town is strange to the European eye in many directions which have 
no special reference to its structures or the formation of its streets, al- 
beit the few scores of early Dutch houses, with their stoeps, as they 
call the verandas, their timber ceilings, numerous doors, and win- 
dows fitted with small panes, create a certain distinctiveness of 
feature that takes accentuation from contrast with modern and 
handsome buildings. 

A characteristic of Cape Town lies in the number of its hansom 
cabs, and another feature that speedily excites the attention is the 
extraordinary posture of laziness into which the drivers contrive, 
while their “^lorses are standing still, to sink. You notice the 
effect of the climate in a little thing of this kind, just as its drowsy 
influence is illustrated in the indolence of the dogs, which lie about 
sleeping one on top of another all day long; though to be sure, 
when the night comes they atone for their reserve during the day 
by a widespread barking that is often hideous and distracting. An- 
other feature, again, is the cock-crowing. I recollect one morning 
being awakened at about dawn. I went to the open window, and 
saw the green light in the east gradually brightening into a most 
delicate, beautiful blue through the lace-work of greenery that fes- 
tooned the veranda. I had stood but a moment or two when I was 
surprised by an extraordinary kind of groaning noise, that appar- 
ently rose from the whole surface of the land on which Cape Town 
stands. It sounded to me like a mourning chorus of fanatics — 
thousands of Malays, perhaps, smiting themselves and adoring Al- 
lah. It was not until a cock in a neighboring yard rang out its 
hoarse crow that I could determine Ihe nature of the multitudinous 
groanings. But this adjacent cock having given me the key-note, 
I at once discovered that the sounds which had puzzled me were 
produced by hundreds, and perhaps thousands, of cocks crowing, 
for the most part, all at once. Again, I may regard the horns of 
the flsh salesmen as another “ special feature,” to employ the lan- 
guage of trade. The town is filled with carts, which are used for 
hawking fish about, and the men who sell this fish announce their 
approach by blowing a kind of trumpet. Throughout the day the 
air is resonant with these detestable notes. The reader may con- 
ceive for himself the sort of pleasure he would derive from street 
boys passing his house every five minutes, from six in the morning 


144 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


till six at night, blowing incessantly, every mother’s son of them, a 
trumpet that may be heard a mile off. This sort of noise the people 
of Cape Town endure apparently for no other reason than that their 
servants may know that some very tough and tasteless fish are com- 
ing their way in a black man’s cart * I was told that people sooa 
get used to the noise, and do not heed it; but 1 doubt the correct- 
ness of this information, since many persons whom I spoke to on the 
subject complained of the blowing of the horns as an intolerable nui- 
sance. As though these horns were not intolerable enough, the 
drivers and conductors of the trams are forced to blow whistles 
when in locomotion. It is difficult to hear one’s self speak in the 
cars, and the drive is rendered in consequence insufferably disgust- 
ing. There are thousands of crickets, too, when the blaring of the. 
colored costermongers and the whistling on the trams have ceased,, 
to start a new sort of music for the night. Their utterance is like 
the sharp abrupt ringing of electric bells. Heard afar, their chimes 
are not without a kind of melodiousness. The silvery, monotonous 
singing seems always in cort'espondence with the bright African 
moonshine, the brilliancy of the twinkling stars, the deep respira- 
tion of the soft, hot breeze amid boughs drooping with weight of 
foliage, or amid flowers pearl-like in hue and glistening in gems 
with the dew-drops they offer to the moon. 

Cape Town is charged with a cosmopolitanism of complexion;, 
evety^ shade is represented, from the ebony black of the negro, bora 
leagues away upland behind those distant blue mountains there, to 
the white and sickly hue of the English girl languishing in a climate 
where the British rose may be sought for in vain. Of all the col- 
ored folks the Malays are the oddest. These people are artisans;, 
they also drive cabs, they sell fish, they wash linen, and so forth. 
They are all well to do, are aristocratic from their own standpoint, 
and are such a power in the place that the one policy practiced to- 
ward them, I believe, whether from the governor’s table or the mag- 

.« 

* The fish caught in the bay are unquestionably very coarse, poor eating-. 
There are several kinds; I tried them all, and found them good for nothing, 
aiilton, in “Paradise Regained,” speaks of— 

“ All fish from sea or shore, 

Freshet or purling brook, for which was drained 
Pontus and Lucrine Bay and Afric coast." 

What Satan could find, of fish, on Afric coast to serve as a garnish for the 
“ Table richly spread in regal mode 
With dishes piled,” 
remains to be revealed. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


145 


islerial bench, is that of conciliation. Whenl was in Cape Town 
some difficulty arose about a new burial-ground that had been as- 
signed to these Malays, who are Mohammedans. They objected to 
the site, and affirmed their intention of continuing to bury their 
dead in the old ground. A dangerous insurrection was threatened; 
the volunteers dressed and armed themselves, and the troops were 
called out. Every street-corner had its little crowd of excited Malay 
men and women dressed in bright colors, wdio gesticulated furiously 
and chattered with passionate rapidity about their grievance. Eld- 
erly European ladies wandered about calling upon friends or visit- 
ing hotels, alarming everybody with conjectures as to what the re- 
sult must be. We were all to be murdered in our beds; we were 
all to be poisoned in our cups; we were all to be secretly stabbed 
with weapons coated with some deadly mixture as we passed through 
the streets; our houses were to be fired; we were all to be starved 
by reason of the Malays (who seem to. have the chief victualing of 
the place in their hands among their other privileges and dignities) 
refueling to sell food and drink to us. Instead of looking for snakes 
under the bed, we searched for Malays coiled up in the darkness 
there; and if Malay laundrymen approached us with their little 
bills we kept the table between them and us while we inquired into 
the motive of their visit. Eventually the Malays, on being har- 
angued, consented to the interment of their dead in the new ground, 
the general terror evaporated, and we eat, drank, and went to bed 
once more without misgiving. 

Yet one saw in this incident the sort of footing the Malays have 
in Cape Town. You would suppose that they were an infinitely 
more powerful element than the Dutch, though you hear a very 
great deal indeed about the latter, and next to nothing at all about 
the former unless there be a religious riot. They are certainly a 
curious kind of people. The women are habited in immense flow- 
ing dresses, and the men on gala days distinctly top the Yankee no- 
tion of the “masher’s”, costume. I called upon Mr. Stuttaford, 
who has a very large drapery business, and asked him to tell me 
about these Malay costumes, and he showed me specimens of the 
goods he imports for these people; handkerchiefs of amber and red, 
green and yellow, bright magenta and blue, for the women’s heads 
and shoulders; and bright green and blue stuffs for the dresses, 
which take about sixteen yards— a good flowing measure, Mr. Stut- 
taford told me, seeing that the dress is plain. The men, when 
dressed in their best, go habited in blue cloth trousers, pale-yellow 
cassimere waistcoat, dark-blue cloth coat, orange colored French 


146 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


merino neckerchief instead of a collar and tie, patent -leathei boots, 
and a huge straw hat like a Chinaman’s shield. 

Of Cape Town itself I have no intention to say much. I intended 
that these chapters should be chiefly sea faring in their character, 
and that what I had to say about the ports I visited should refer to 
their maritime aspects, but before I touch upon the docks and the 
great improvement contemplated or, in a sense, already undertaken 
in respect of the constitution of Table Bay as a haven of refuge 
and of large accommodation in all modern appliances and conven- 
iences, I must- hope to find a little space to say a few words about 
the public and other buildings to which my attention was directed. 
The House of Assembly is a very fine structure, indeed. It is held 
by many to be much too handsome and costly for the town; but it 
should prove a benignant influence, if the inhabitants would only 
choose to “ live up to it;” in other words, to render their sanitary 
and other domestic surroundings in keeping with this very fine and 
richly furnished edifice. The Public Library, too, is a repository to 
be greatly admired and warmly praised. It contains nearly forty- 
two thousand volumes, and in the room dedicated to Sir George 
Grey’s noble and magnificent gift a student might linger day after 
day for months without risk of satiation; for here I find a really 
superb collection of missals, Bibles, psalters, and literature of this 
kind of the sixteenth and of earlier centuries yet; unique manu- 
script transcriptions of Dante and Boccaccio, with Caxton’s ” Poly- 
chronicon,” dated 1482, and 1623 and 1632 editions of Shakespeare, 
respectively printed by Isaac Jaggard and Ed. Blount, and by 
Tliomas Cotes for Robert Allot. I confess I was delighted with 
this library, with the fine central reading-room, the handsome gal- 
lery around it, the tables loaded with periodicals, the side-rooms all 
very handsomely furnished, and the long shelves, soaring high, 
crowded with valuable, well-kept volumes. Another very fine 
building is that of the Standard Bank, in Adderley Street; but 
"What I missed — what every man must m’iss who visits not only Cape 
Town, but every other place in the colony — is a good hotel. 

Cape Town is about two centuries old,* and in all that time the 
very best hotel that the people have chosen to provide for the ac- 
commodation of visitors would disgrace the meanest, dirtiest, most 
insanitaiy village in England. A kind of Dutch phlegm, a profound 
indifference to progress beyond a certain point is undeniably a 
characteristic of Cape Town. There is an old painting in the li- 
brary — a ship stranded in Table Bay. Many figures on her fore- 

* Jan van Riebeck and his companions landed at the Cape in 1652. 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


147 


castle are represented in postures of supplication and of anguish; 
meanwhile a crowd of Dutchmen assembled on the beach, dressed 
in a fashion which the portraits of Dr. Johnson have made familiar 
to us, stolidly smoke long clay pipes while they apparently talk 
about the shipwreck and what is to be done! There is no excite- 
ment; there is no movement. These long clay pipes seem to have 
entered intc the constitution and character of Cape Town, and they 
are yet phlegmatically smoked with the old Dutch stolidity you 
find in the painting in the face of a hundred matters crying trum- 
pet-tongued for redress and reform. 

I could mention a hotel that is considered, I was told, not only 
the best in Cape Town, but the best in the colony— a colony that 
includes such places as Kimberley, Port Elizabeth, Graham’s Town, 
and King William’s Town. I dare not trust myself to speak of the 
sanitary arrangements of this “ best hotel.” Such primitiveness as 
I encountered would shock, you would suppose, the soul of a 
Bushman. In other directions, illustrations of neglect and indiffer- 
ence abounded. If a window was broken, it was left to stand till 
somebody should take it into his head to fancy that a sheet of news- 
paper pasted over it would check the draught. The bedrooms 
were richly garnished with cobwebs, the beds were hard and bad, 
the table-linen was dirty, and the two or three lads and the two or 
three chambermaids who came from making beds to waiting at ta- 
ble-while as attentive and good-natured as hard-driven people can 
possibly be — were utterly unequal to the demands made upon their 
services.* 

Now, I should like to know what temptations a colony offers to 
travelers and invalids when the first experience of persons newly 
arrived must be one of great pei*sonal discomfort? No man, after 
enduring a week or two at an hotel in Cape Town, and learning that 
the accommodation up-country was still worse, would dream of 
taking his wife or daughters into the interior. He would easily 
guess the sort of horrors he would pass through, and be perfectly 
satisfied with descriptions of the wonders and beauties of African 
scenery, while he made haste to secure cabins for himself and the 
ladies, and sail away for a land where hotels were good, and where 
the peoi^le had some cunning in sanitary science. In my humble 
judgment, the first step to bo taken in the direction of courting trav- 

* As I was suffering much from rheumatism, I was naturally anxious that 
my bed-linen should be aired. On inquiring, I was answered, “ Oh, we don’t air 
linen heue; we just chuck it upon a hedge, and when we think it’s dry put it on 
the bedl” 


148 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


<?lers to South Africa is to supply them with some approach to the 
sort of accommodation they are used to in Europe. The steamship 
companies concerned in the interest of the Cape should see to this. 
There is abundance of room, at all events, in Cape Town for a 
single experiment; and not only abundance of room, but plenty of 
promise also. The hotel I stopped at was nearly always full. Peo- 
ple from all parts of the country were incessantly arriving, for 
Cape Town is looked upon as a sort of metropolitan resort, and 
every steamer from England or coastwise brought fresh faces to the 
stoep and the table d'hote If such a poor, badly ordered house of 
entertainment as this finds such liberal patronage through the sheer 
necessities of travelers, what excellent speculative promise, then, 
w’ould not a good hotel offer— a large, substantial, airy building, 
backed by the resources of the steam lines, and supplying you with 
every comfort of bath-room, lavatory, bedroom, table, and attend- 
ance? This is a first and essential step, and until it is taken I very 
much fear that the visits of that class of society whose presence 
creates a fashion, and whose movements induce prosperity, must be 
few and very far betw’een, indeed.* 

I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance* of Mr. Upington, 
the premier ( f the colony, and of listening to some very eloquently 
expressed views from him on the subject of Basutoland. I trust 
he will forgive me for saying that, for the sake of Cape Town, it 
w’ould have afforded me more pleasure to have heard his deliberate 
opinion on the drainage of the place. It was not very agreeable to 
a stranger like myself during my short visit to hear that typhoid 
fever abounded in the suburbs and in certain quarters of the town. 
It w^as impossible to doubt the news — the nose everywhere found 
abundant evidence. I w’as being driven in a tram to Sea Point, 
wdien the driver stopped in the thick of an insufferable stench. I 
complained to the conductor about it; he said it could not be helped; 
it w'as more or less the same wherever the tram stopped; there was 
only one thing to enable a man to endure it, and that w^as brandy ! 

* Howell, referring to the Dutch in his “ Forreine Travell,” has the following 
—not a little applicable to certain English, Irish, and others at the Cape: “ In 
conversation they are but heavy, of a homely outside, and slow in action, which 
slownesse carrieth with it a notable perseverance, and this may bee imputed to 
the quality of that mold of earth, whereon they dwell, which may be said to bee 
a kind of standing poole of Ay re; And which is known to have such a force of 
assimilation, that when people of a more vivacious temper come to mingle with 
them at the second generation, they seeme to participate of the soyle and ayre, 
and degenerate into meere Hollanders; the like is found dayly in Horses and 
Dogs and all other animals.” 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


149 


Tims he spoke while the odor rolled thick to the nostrils, and the 
thermometer stood 88^ in the shade. They say that the Malays and 
the Dutch are people of foul habits, and that it is impossible to keep 
streets and neighborhoods sweet where these people dwell. But are 
there no laws to enforce cleanly observance? Is not sanitation at 
Cape Town insisted upon as an essential element of the public weal? 
Why should a fine town like this, rich in historic memory, digni- 
fied by some stately buildings, beautiful in its surroundings with 
romantic scenery, with a kind of grandeur even, given to it by the 
towering and dominating adjacency of its mountains — why should 
such a town as this suffer from such conditions of uncleanliness, 
from such complications of evil-odors, from such gutters of black 
and creeping filth as would be utterly impossible in the very poorest 
village you can point to at home? They have a noble Parliament 
House to legislate in, and there is no lack of shrewd, long headed 
men capable of legislating correctly; why, then, not deal deter- 
minedly with this question of drainage, and with the aboriginal no- 
tions of the Malays and the bovine indifference of the Dutch, and 
so rescue a charming town, situated amid lovely scenery, and stand- 
ing radiant in a delightful climate, from the most disgraceful charge 
which, in these days of science, of soap, and of drain-pipes, can be 
brought against a community?* 

There is nothing worse to say of Cape Town than that its drain- 
age is extraordinarily and disgracefully imperfect, and that its hotel 
accommodation should be accepted as a scandal by the people. For 
the rest, all is beauty, all is grandeur. The famous drive round the 
mountain-side, called the Kloof Road, with its sheer descents of 
many hundred feet for the gaze to search, the bays mountain- 
flanked, their green hollows studded with white houses, with the 
giant comber of the South Atlantic breaking in lines of dazzling 
foam upon the rugged beach, leave such impressions upon the mind 
as years of travel amid famous scenes could not efface. The strong 
southeaster sweeping down the mountain finds children of its own 
in the obedient trees leaning along its course. At intervals a kind 
of volcanic splendor is observed on the heights of the heaven-seek- 
ing eminences by the burning of whole acres of the pine-tree; the 


* A day or two before I sailed, I was driving with a gentleman in a suburb, 
when we came to a little stream in which some colored women were washing. 
My Companion informed me that the people living in the neighborhood drank 
that water. “ And j'et,” I exclaimed, “ the laundry people are allowed to come 
and wash their dirty linen in it!” “ Yes,” he answered, quietly, and with that 
we drove on. 


150 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


night is illuminated by the incandescence, the stars are obscured by 
the masses of smoke settling in a dense fog about the Blaawberg 
Mountains, and you. respire an atmosphere charged with a resinous 
aroma and thick with light gray ash. All about Wyiiberg, High 
Constantia, and Claremont is pure fairy-land; houses of graceful 
form shine amid vegetation of tropical luxuriance; the white-faced, 
old Dutch farm-house stands, as it has stood for years, with draped 
windows, silent amid the stillness of high trees, to which the shadow 
of the looming mountain beyond imparts a deeper repose yet. A 
cheerful Cape cart trots by with its happy family party snug under 
the cool cover. The lively Africander whistles and shows his teeth 
to you with a saluting grin, as he lolls upon the burden behind the 
slow-moving oxen and the patient mule. And into all things the 
marvelous blue of the heavens by day, the marvelous brilliance of 
the stare by night, put a spirit of gracefulness, of tenderness, and 
of romance. It is, indeed, a favored land, for the climate, for the 
growth of the soil, for natural beauties of a thousand kinds. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

AN IMPORTANT UNDERTAKING. 

Before dealing with the docks and the breakwater now in course 
of throwing out a long and enfolding arm upon the waters of Table 
Bay, I desire to say a few words about the Royal Observatory of 
the Cape of Good Hope. I had the pleasure of being introduced to 
Dr. David Gill, the Astronomer Royal, and to his accomplished 
wife, who is well known as the author of an eloquent narrative of 
the six months she spent upon the Island of Ascension with her 
husband, while he was engaged in some complicated and highly im- 
portant astronomical calculations and observations. The observa- 
tory is a fine old building, designed by Telford, and stands amid 
pretty grounds of its own, whence you command a noble view of 
the range of mountains running into and passing the Devil’s Peak, 
as one of these striking eminences is called. Some useful astrono- 
mical work has been performed at this observatory, and the mari- 
time world will at least thank me for referring to labors which must 
be of infinite value to the navigator. 

The Cape of Good Hope, Dr. Gill informed me, has always been 
the headquarters of astronomy in the southern hemisphere. The 
first fairly accurate catalogue of the stars of these skies was' pre- 
pared by the famous Abbe de La Caille, from observations made at 
the Cape in 1751-52, and published at Paris in 1757. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


151 


' ‘ For nearly seventy years, ” continued Dr. Gill, “there was no 
further advance in the astronomy of the southern heavens. In 
Europe there had indeed been accumulated at the observatories of 
Greenwich, Paris, Berlin, Gotha, and elsewhere a mass of observa- 
tions, all of them characterized by an accuracy which I must not 
say has been very greatly exceeded by the scientific precision of the 
present day. Thus, the places of the principal stars of the northern 
hemisphere were clearly known; but, save for the’ labors of La 
Caille, those of the southern heavens were conjectured with but a 
rude approximation tq the truth. A southern observatory was 
needed, not only for the advancement of astronomy, but for the 
purposes of the higher navigation, for the determination of the 
moon’s parallax, and the law and constants of refraction. What 
nation so peculiarly fitted to enter upon this important undertaking 
as Great Britain? She maintained but one royal observatory — yet 
one that was fadU princeps as to current activity and the greatness 
of its history. 

‘ ' It was not too much, ’ ’ the doctor proceeded, ‘ ' that she should 
Ibe called upon to found and support another observatory, seeing 
that her empire extended equally north and south, and that the ut- 
most efforts of an observatory in one hemisphere could accomplish 
little compared with what was possible of achievement by the co- 
operation of two observatories. Great Britain had recently acquired 
the Gape of Good Hope, where the climate was of proved suitability 
for astronomical research, where the latitude differed about ninety 
degrees from that of Greenwich, and -where the difference of longi- 
tude from Greenwich was inconsiderable. Indeed, it would be 
difficult to find on the face of the globe two positions more favor- 
ably situated for mutual co-operation in astronomical research than 
the observatories of Greenwich and the Cape of Good Hope. You 
will find a detailed account of the circumstances which led to the 
founding of the Cape Observatory in yonder volume of the memoirs 
of the Royal Astronomical Society.* It would occupy too much 
time to recount the labors of my predecessors, but some names I 
should not like to emit even in this brief chat. There was Hender 
son, who succeeded Fallows. He resigned his appointment after 
little more than a year’s service, and accepted the professorship of 
astronomy in the University of Edinburgh. But, sir, he did very 

* The account is voluminous and ponderous. The story of the observatory 
lightly told would prove a useful contribution to general literature. The hand 
{if the health permitted) that penned the delightful “ Six Months in Ascension” 
might find a congenial task in such a work. 


152 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


remarkable work in that time It was he, indeed, who laid the 
first highly accurate foundation of the sidereal astronomy of the 
southern hemisphere. Nor was this all; for, in addition to the in- 
valuable star catalogues which he prepared from his observations, 
he was the first astronomer to measure with any approximation to 
truth the parallax (or distance) of a fixed star. 

“ He w^as succeeded,” continued Dr, Gill, “by Mr. (afterward 
Sir) Thomas Maclear, who held the post of Her Majesty’s Astrono- 
mer at the Cape from 1884 to 1870. Maclear, sir, was a person of 
singular energy. His appetite for work exceeded his power of in- 
tellectual digestion. He is best known by his measurement of an 
arc of meridian, an achievement which proved the symmetry within 
narrow limits of the form of the two hemispheres of the earth. 
This symmetry less accurate preceding observation had rendered 
doubtful. Maclear also confirmed the results of past researches on 
the parallax of stars. He stood among the foremost as a close ob- 
server of comets in the southern skies. This was, indeed, his fa- 
vorite work, and soon after the appearance of a comet in the south- 
ern hemisphere there would be printed a record of it from the pen 
of Maclear, with plans deduced from his observations. In addition, 
he made and reduced tidal observations, acted on committees for 
the establishment of lighthouses, and in this and other ways so 
crowded his time with labors that he found it impossible to com- 
plete the reductions of his numerous observations. He retired in 
1870, and was succeeded by Mr. E. J. Stone, at that time chief as- 
sistant at Greenwich. The choice was a fortunate one. Mr. Stono 
was not so much an observer as a computer. He reduced many of 
Maclear’s observations, and published them in the form of two star 
catalogues; he also employed his staff in reobserving the stars 
which had been first noted by La Caille in 1750, and finally com- 
pleted a catalogue of twelve thousand stars, certainly one of the 
most valuable of existing contributions to sidereal astronomy.” 

Further conversation with Dr. Gill enabled me to ascertain that 
the aim and scope of the work at the observatory had been very 
greatly extended by him, and that since his appointment as Astrono- 
mer Eoyal he has introduced many new instruments and methods 
of research. The transit circle, he told me, a twin instrument with 
the transit circle at Greenwich, has been actively employed in the 
usual meridinal work of a standard observator}". The heliometer 
which was used by him at Ascension was purchased from Lord 
Crawford, transported to the Cape, and devoted to researches on 
the distances of the fixed stars. So satisfactory was this work that 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


153 


tlie admiralty have promised a new and powerful instrument that 
will prove the finest helioineter in the world.* Another exceeding- 
ly interesting instrument is the Indian theodolite. It was originally 
designed for the great trigonometrical survey of India, but w'as 
found too heavy, and consequently too difficult of transport for 
practical use. On the recommendaticm of General Walker, super- 
intendent of the survey, this instrument was lent by the Indian 
government to the Cape Observatory. Dr. Gill informed me that 
he employs it in determining the declination of stars, not in the 
customary way — that is by observing their altitudes at meridian 
passage — but by observing the azimuth of their greatest elongations 
east and west of the meridian. The declinations are thus deter- 
mined without risk of errors due to refraction and other causes. I 
also gathered that Dr. Gill has considerably improved the original 
Instrument, more particularly by the introduction of the electric 
light for the illumination of the microscopes and divisions of the 
circles. 

“ It is certainly strange,” he remarked to me, ” that this observa- 
tory, so remote as it is from the workshops and appliances wffiich 
abound in Europe, should be the first to reduce to a practical form 
the employment of the electric light for the irradiation of astrono- 
mical instruments. In 1882,” he went on, “I succeeded in obtain- 
ing s(-me fine photographs of the great comet of that year. These 
plates included such sharp pictures of the neighboring stars that I 
deffised a scheme for obtaining star maps of the wffiole southern 
heavens by direct photography. We have already over three hun- 
dred photographs. The project involves in all about one thousand 
five hundred pictures, and there then remains the gigantic labor of 
measuring, reducing, and cataloguing the photographed stars, num- 
bering between four and five hundred thousand.” 

He also informed me that, backed by the late Sir Bartle Frere 
and Sir George Colley, he started a geodetic survey of South Africa, 
a work yet being carried on under his direction. The survey of 
Natal is finished, and great progress has been made in that of the 
Cape Colony. The results, besides forming a basis for the accurate 
cartography of the country, must furnish a valuable addition to ex- 
isting data for determining the form and dimensions of the earth. 
I could point to many other features illustrating the past value of 
this institution and the useful w^ork it is doing, but it is time I 
should return to Table Bay and speak of what is being done there. 

* I understood that this instrument had not, at the date of my conversation 
with the Astronomer Royal, been delivered to him. 


154 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


It is impossible to survey this noble tract of water without appre- 
ciating the old political wisdom that dictated the British appropria- 
tion of Cape Town.* The Suez Canal has diverted probably two 
thirds of the marine processions that formerly sailed to and from 
India and the East by way of the Cape; but - we all, unhappily, 
know that in the event of war it would not be very hard to as effec- 
tually bar the narrow channel through the desert, as a dock may be 
closed by swinging its gates to Nothing can be more obvious than 
that a maritime nation should possess not only coaling-stations easy 
of access and rich in appliance for prompt dispatch, but havens also- 
for the secure lodgment and protection of its mercantile fleets, 
should the blocking of the canal force vessels into the old long 
ocean route. Hence a distinctly imperial interest attaches, in my 
humble opinion, to the work that is now being done in Table Bay 
in connection with the docks. The point was well put to me by a 
gentleman of influence and distinction in the colony. 

“ The opening of the Suez Canal,” he said, “ diverted not only 
the traffic but the attention of the public to the importance of the 
Cape route. But let us imagine a war between England and some 
other European power possessed of a powerful navy. Although 
theoretically protected by international treaty, can it be questioned 
that the Suez Canal would, sooner or later, be blocked? Conceive 
this possibility, and the importance of this port is immediately un- 
derstood. To my mind, the furtherance and completion of these 
works here is not a matter for Cape Town alone, nor for the colony 
generally, but one that directly appeals to the imperial interests of 
Great Britain There is Simon’s Bay, it is true. Simon’s Bay has 
certainly a good anchorage, and it is a sheltered harbor, but it is not 
easily defended; it has not a graving-dock nor jetties for the berth- 
ing of ships. In bad weather communication with the shore is al- 
most impossible. It is not connected by railway or even good roads 
to the rest of the colony, and Simon’s Town could not, if called 
upon, supply the wants of any considerable number of men. Now, 
on the shores of Table Bay you find the largest town in South 

* 1806, T. H. Brooke, in a “ History of St. Helena,” relates a story I have not 
elsewhere met with. He says that, in or about 1651, the Dutch, desirous of pos- 
sessing the Cape, that w'as then in the hands of the English, effected their ob- 
ject by bribing the chief of the settlement to send home a representation 
that the natives were ” cannibals, and most cruel, terrible creatures, so that it 
was impossible to hold out against them.” This report produced an order to 
quit the settlement, and the Dutch thereupon removed thither their settlers 
from St. Helena, w'hich, being found deserted by some homeward-bound ships 
of the London East India Company, was taken possession of. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 155 

Africa — the seat of government, the headquarters of the imperial 
troops, the chief center of commercial enterprise, the terminus of 
a network of railways traversing the whole country, commodious 
docks capable of receiving the largest mercantile steamers, trans- 
ports, or men-of-war, and a graving-dock in which vessels of great 
tonnage may be overhauled and repaired. The breakwater already 
supplies a large sheltered area of deep water, and when the works 
are completed the largest fleet ever likely to visit us. may ride with 
perfect security in Table Bay.” 

First, let us see what accommodation the present dock area offers. 
I find that the quay space is about 6500 feet, and that the depth of 
water at low spring tide is from 15 feet to 27 feet. There is ware- 
house accommodation for the storage of 10,000 ton?, and there is a 
graving-dock 530 feet long, with a depth of 24 feet of water on the 
blocks. The engine empties this dock in from three to five hours. 
There is a patent slip, tested to take up vessels of 1200 tons’ register. 
Sailing craft requiring dispatch can unload from 500 to COO tons per 
day if necessary. The superintendent of the docks informed me 
that steamers discharge and load cargo and take in coal to the 
amount of about 2000 tons in twenty- four hours. It is worth ob- 
serving that even with the present appliances at the disposal of the 
dock authorities, a steamer calling for coal was supplied at the rate 
of 1 50 tons per hour. 

I asked the superintendent to give me an instance of dispatch. 
“ There was the ‘ Kaikoura,’ ” he said, ” a magnificent steamer of 
close upon 4500 tons. She arrived here some months ago, with her 
l^ropeller broken ; she discharged 300 tons of cargo, was taken into 
the graving-dock, had her broken blade removed, shipped a new 
one, left the graving-dock, reshipped her cargo, took on board about 
800 tons of coal, and was ready for sea within twenty-eight hours 
of the time she commenced to discharge; there being handled, in 
all, about 1400 tons. The ‘ Coptic,’ another steamer, of 4368 tons, 
formerly w^ell-known in the Atlantic trade, had arrived a few weeks 
earlier than the ‘ Kaikoura, ’ in the same predicament. We dis- 
charged, docked, repaired, undocked, and reloaded her with similar 
promptitude. I do not scruple to say that, even as we now stand, 
we give such dispatch as no other port in the world can surpass.” 

” Have you any tugs?” I asked. 

” Yes; three powerful vessels. Our breakwater is only in its be- 
ginning, as you know; yet, such is the shelter it already affords 
that the largest class of vessels can run for Table Bay, and lie in 
security there. They are sure of receiving every assistance, and 


156 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


have nothing now to fear, though they should he in a disabled con 
dition or without anchors.” 

I obtained a very full account of the origin and progress of the 
breakwater during a long conversation with Mr. Thw'aites, the resi- 
dent engineer, and if I dwell at some length upon this subect, I hope 
to be forgiven on the plea that I am dealing with a matter of first- 
rate consequence in the interests of our navy and mercantile marine, 
and of essential importance to the prosperity of our South African 
colonies. In the first place, it should be stated that many ships and 
many lives have been lost in Table Bay because of the violent 
storms of wind which come on to blow with startling suddenness 
from the north and northwest quarters, and because until the break- 
water was begun, ships which anchored in the bay were during 
these tempests exposed to all the horrors of a lee-shore. Mr. 
Thwaites informed me that the first wagon of stone for the break- 
water that was to run out from the shore N. by E. -J E. was de- 
posited by Prince Alfred on June 7, 1860. Eight years later the 
work had progressed to a length of 1840 feet. Its base was then in 
about thirty-five feet of water, and the docks and outlying works, 
along with a portion of the anchorage, were fairly protected by it. 
In 1880, as I gather, the increasing trade of the port necessitated an 
enlargement of accommodation. It was determined to lengthen the 
breakwater by 800 feet in the same direction as the existing struc- 
ture extended, and then continue it to a further distance of 1000 
feet eastward of that line. 

“ To the present time,” said the engineer to me, “ this work has 
been carried out a distance of 660 feet, and is still proceeding.” 

“ What is the total length at present?” 

‘ ‘ Two thousand five hundred and thirty feet. The bend referred 
to is already half finished, and obviously every foot of breakwater 
now advanced will yield proiX)rtionally a much larger protected 
area than a similar progress did formerly. I should tell you that 
the quarry from which the material for the breakwater is being ex- 
cavated is so contrived that at a very small expenditure it may bC' 
made to furnish additional dock accommodation of eight acres, with 
a minimum depth at low- water springs of twenty-seven feet.” 

“ And as to your outer harbor?” 

” The scheme has been adopted, and in due course we shall have 
an inclosure of sixty-two acres. The mound of the south arm, 
which will run parallel to the breakwater, at a distance of 1650 feet 
south of it, will shortly be begun. This will insure the protection 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


157 


of the quay wall from the heavy breaking of seas raised by the 
southeast wind, and in this way will supjdy valuable berthage room. ’ ’ 

I said to the engineer that I was not a little surprised on entering 
the bay from England and looking through the port- hole to find the 
docks brilliantly illuminated with electric light. “ It impressed me 
somewhat,” said I, “to find progress so distinctive as this in Cape 
Town.” 

“ No, no,” he exclaimed, laughing, “ we are not wholly barbar- 
ians here! We are six thousand miles distant, it is true, from the 
mother country, but for all that we know what is doing, and what 
we like we adopt. There was some trouble at the start with the 
lights; they were uncertain; but they are pretty steady now.” 

“ Have the government here done anything in the way of 
strengthening the defenses at Table Bay? You know, of course, 
what is doing at Simon’s Bay?” 

“ Yes; but I think when our works are completed it will be judged 
that the money which has been expended at Simon’s Bay might 
have been more profitably devoted to the defenses of a haven whose 
houses, at all events, do not lie immediately exposed to the shells 
and shots of an enemy.* What has been done at Table Bay is this: 
The Amsterdam Battery was in 1879 considerably strengthened by 
the heaping up in front of it of surplus material from the break- 
water quarry excavation; and two new batteries of power have been 
built this year — one at Mouille Point and the other at the south head 
of the bay at Craig’s Tower. The harbor work supplied both the 
labor and the tools for these undertakings.” 

“ Are your dues heavy?” 

“No; they were reduced in correspondence with the increase of 
the trade. When we first opened, five shillings a ton was charged 
upon all goods landed or shipped to ports beyond the limits of this 
colony. The charge is now two shillings a ton. The coastwise 
dues are also reduced from two shillings and sixpence to one shill- 
ing, but we keep up the old charges on live-stock.” 

“ What do you charge vessels?” 

“ Sixpence a ton, but they may remain here for twenty-one days. ” 

“ You speak of the increase of 7001 ’ trade, kindly give me some 
statistics.” 

* It is whispered in Cape Town that jealousy is at the bottom of the admiralty 
objection to Table Bay; that if the admiral, whoever he might be, should come 
to Table Bay, he would be under the control of the governor, whereas at Simon’s 
Town he remains lord paramount. Why a few miles should make so great a 
difference in the powers of the admiral, I confess I do not understand. 


158 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


“ Well, sir, it should suffice if 1 tell you that the total gross ton- 
nage outward and inward in the year after the opening of the Alfred 
Dock was 100,058 tons, and that last year the total was 814,840 
tons. In 1870 we had 190 vessels, in 1885 we had 734 vessels. The 
aggregate gross register tonnage dealt with by us from 1870 down 
to last year is 8,055,785,” 

” These figures seem full of health,” said I “lam sure they 
will be looked at with interest by many at home. And now may I 
ask how much have you spent down to the present time?” 

“ I can not answer to the present time; but to December 31, 1884, 
there has been disbursed £1,273,078. The revenue during the same 
period has been £933,048. The last yearly returns showed £72,197. 
This is sufficient to pay working expenses as well as the interest on 
money already expended or likely to be required to complete the 
works and to provide for their maintenance.” 

So much for the statistics of a really notable undertaking. The 
engineer showed me a beautiful model (the work of convicts) of the 
breakwater and of the new dock area. It does not need much more 
than a glance at this model to grasp the whole significance of the 
fine project. We know at home, perhaps through lack of them, 
the value of harbors of refuge, and it is inspiriting indeed to find in 
this remote part of the world so big and important an illustration of 
commercial instinct as you witness in the works in progress in the 
Bay, combined, as those instincts are, with such a perception of 
marine needs as renders the vast labor a distinct act of philanthropy 
in its way. 

Were the particular spirit you remark in full operation in the 
Cape Town docks extended throughout the colony, those who think 
with misgiving of the future of South Africa might pluck up heart 
It seems hard, indeed, that with poverty and misery teeming in our 
English by-ways and alle 5 ^s there should be no outlook for a man 
willing to put his hand to resolute work in these fertile leagues of 
colonial soil. I was in Cape Town when news came of the rioting 
in London and the provinces. I had heard much of the product- 
iveness of the northern and eastern provinces here; and it was pain- 
ful to think of the suffering ancTpenury those riots indicated, and 
contrast them with the possibilities offered by a land of plenty, 
wasting its growths to the sun, yet virtually barred against the 
thousands who are oppressing the heart of the nation with their 
cries of famine and their anguish of houselessness. 

Nevertheless, it is onl 3 "too certain that the emigrant is not wanted 
here. It is the country of the black man— of that scorner of clothes. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


159 


the noble savage. White labor languishes.- energy fails at the mo- 
ment prospects open. The Boer, the most adhesive of mortals, 
rests contented with a squalid home and untilled acres more exten- 
sive than his eye can survey. The true colonial instinct is wanting 
— that indescribable intellectual capacity of taking root where the 
foot falls. Ambition here seems to impel a man no further than the 
desire to obtain money enough to enable him, whether he be an En- 
glishman or a German, to return home, and stop there. A posterity 
may arise that will be as the vine brush is or the gum-tree— a pure 
growth of South African soil, but with antecedents with a begin- 
ning in white hands. But down to the present moment the symp- 
toms are not those of a colonization such as created a great republic 
across the Western ocean, such as has builded an empire of cities 
and populous towns in the distant Pacific. I say it is a pity; for 
you can not think of the mighty tracts of green and beautiful coun- 
try stretching in mountains and valleys and plains to the equatorial 
latitudes, and of the dreadful poverty you see and hear of and read 
about in London and throughout Great Britain and Ireland without 
deep regret that this land should be universally declared to offer no 
opportunities to those in need of bread. 

Determined to obtain an independent opinion on a subject never 
more interesting than at the present moment, I consulted Mr. T. E. 
Fuller, a prominent member of the Legislative Assembly, and a 
person who had taken an active interest for years in the question of 
labor importation: I spoke to this gentleman, I sa}^ about the emi- 
gration of the poor of England to South Africa, and 1 will endeavor 
briefiy to repeat the matter of our conversation. 

“ In the present depressed condition of the country,” he said, in 
reply to my question, “ it is not very easy to answer your inquiry. 
We are just now passing through a rather serious crisis. After a 
period of great prosperity and large expenditure, when everybod}' 
has been over- building, over-buying, and over-trading, South Africa 
finds itself face to face with a semi-paralyzed trade, low prices, and 
restricted commercial operations. There has been a long drought, 
now happily passed, but it has greatly accentuated the general de- 
pression. At such a time, then, it certainly would be most unwise 
to advocate emigration to South Africa. It should be known, 
moreover, that we have in this country a large native population. 
They do not, it is true, satisfy as yet the labor demands of the col 
ony, but their presence prevents the absorption of the white artisan, 
clerk, or agriculturist. It is this absorption that renders emigration 
practicable and a success in other countries. In this particular part 


160 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


of the world the aboriginal does not disappear before the white man; 
the natives increase, and, in my opinion, the future of the country 
depends not on their being civilized out of existence, but on their 
learning to be industrious, and so in time becoming consumers and 
customers. Now, in those parts where improvement in the habits 
of the black is noticeable the outlook is most hopeful. On the 
frontier, for instance, where the native population is large, they are 
learning how to earn money and how to spend it. The old tribal 
life, with its bovine traditions and milk-and-mealie diet, is slowly 
changing, and in the midst of the “ locations ” or Kaffir villages 
you will find European dress and the cheaper fineries of civilization 
steadily taking the place of the paint-and-blanket costume of the 
raw savage.” 

” But do I understand,” I exclaimed, ” that there is no room for 
the emigrant here — that, in short. South Africa does not want him?” 

” No, I do not say that. Emigration, in my opinion, is as neces- 
sary now to the prosperity of the colony as ever it was in earlier 
times. We can not advance without a large increase of industrial 
population. What I mean is, it would be cruel to invite artisans 
and clerks, or even agricultural laborers, to a merely speculative 
emigration to this country unless they came under some distinct ar- 
rangement. There is no progress to be got out of the mere squat- 
ting of farmers’ sons upon large plots of uncultivated land. But 
for fresh Northern blood, for men who will work with their hands, 
dig, plow, and sow, with perseverance and determination, there is 
room, plenty of room, if they can be placed with judgment, and 
provided with means enough to tide them over the time occupied in 
obtaining a good footing. Some important districts of the country 
owe their prosperity to emigration of this kind. A remarkable illus- 
tration of this may be found in the Germans who were settled in 
the district of King William’s Town at the close of the Crimean 
War.” 

” Does your government encourage emigration?” 

” Well, we must be said to have suspended operations owing to 
the present depressed state of trade. By this suspension is meant 
that no grants are made for the introduction of artisans or laborers 
or any assistance rendered to those who desire to import labor. 
But there is land in various parts of the country still available for 
cultivation, and this land is being slowly but surely occupied by 
settlers.” 

” But how about obtaining land of this character?” I asked. 

” Every now and then large tracts come under British or colonial 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


161 


rule, sucli as the Trauskeian territory to the eastward, and Bechu- 
analand to the north, which offer a field to the settler. These dis- 
tricts are now being settled, and in course of time will support a 
considerable population — indeed, the Transkeian territory already 
does so. With regard to Bechunaland, it will probably be settled 
from the surrounding district, and it is yet to be determined how 
far it will maintain a large population. Irrigation, too, is another 
vital question. We have, no doubt, leagues of splendid country, 
but much of it is fit only for the feeding of stock; for, owing to the 
w’ant of water, nothing could be done with it in the way of cultiva- 
tion. At this moment the government are parceling out allotment 
in connection with the only considerable irrigation work undertaken 
by the legislature. This is Van Wyk’s Vlei, in the district of Car- 
narvon. The government hope to irrigate by means of this Vlei as 
much as two thousand five hundred acres. The lots, I believe, will 
consist of five or six acres each.” 

” Is there anything outside the cultivation of the soil to back a 
scheme of immigration?” 

” We have, as you know, the diamond fields, but that industry is 
established, and there is nothing in it to tempt a speculative immi- 
gration. There are also the gold fields; by and by they may fur- 
nish a field for labor, but they offer no prospects as yet for any 
thi ng like a general population.” 

With this terminated my conversation with Mr. Fuller. The 
conclusion I have arrived at is that England must dismiss South 
Africa from her mind as a refuge and a promise for her poor. It is 
the climate and the country of the black man, and Mr. Fuller is 
undoubtedly correct in declaring that the hope of the colony lies in 
accepting the negro as a permanent and fruitful product of the soil, 
and in so helping him into civilization as to qualify him to become 
not only a useful laborer but a valuable trade constituent. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

COASTWISE TO ALGOA BAY. 

A Fumous south-easter was raging down Table Mountain and 
whipping the waters of Table Bay into a surface of boiling cream. 
The cloud shrouding the mountain to a depth possibly of a thou- 
sand feet was in places of a violet hue, shot with purple— the true 
complexion of an electric storm, and you looked for flashes of light, 
uins: amid the whirling savage masses of vapor to correspond with 
6 


162 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


the roaring as of thunder that trumpeted in deep-throated notes out 
of the rugged defiles and from the shrouded depths of twenty- 
chasms and valleys. 

It was our day of sailing, and punctually at noon, the hour ap- 
pointed for our departure to the various towns lying along the south 
and east coasts of Africa, I made my appearance on hoard the 
“ Spartan,” a ship of three thousand five hundred tons; but it was 
soon evident that there was no chance of getting out of dock while 
the wild south-easter blew. The entrance to the Cape docks is nar- 
row, and rendered not a little inconvenient by the curvature of one 
of the piers. A vessel has to be swung in order to point her head to 
this entrance, and, if it is blowing hard, considerable risk attends 
the maneuvering, for the strain on the warps is enormous as a ship 
brings her broadside to the gale, and, if a rope should part, the ves- 
sel may swing into another, and wreck her, or do herself prodigious 
damage. Hence Captain Wait, the master, was wise to linger until 
the fury of the wind showed some signs of abatement. 

Yet I took notice here of still another illustration of the ship- 
master’s anxieties and worries. The dockmaster, a hearty old 
sailor, was for pushing the “ Spartan ” out to sea, wind or no wind. 
It was Saturday. His wife was in a cottage in one of the beautiful 
bays down the coast, and he was anxious to join her that night and 
spend his Sunday out of sight of the docks. I did not much relish 
his eagerness, for who would willingly put to sea in hglf a hurri- 
cane? and 1 said to him, ” See here, my friend; if you were to be 
held responsible and had to pay for any damage that might follow 
the parting of a warp while this ship was hauling out, you know 
very well you would keep her snug in her berth if you had to sit 
down and wait a fortnight for the wind to blow itself out.” 

He said, with a loud and hearty laugh, “So!” By which I think 
he meant “Yes;” for I have observed that the Dutchmen here, 
when they mean “ Yes,” will say “So,” and the English have 
picked up the expression. 

Captain Wait came to the rail, looking anxious and worried, and 
stared at the cloud on the mountain and at the water in the dock 
that was running in processions of little seas with the fierce chasing 
of the gale. I said to the dockmaster, “ The captain is worrying 
himself because he is forced to lose a few hours of time; and in these 
days of dispatch hours have literally more significance than weeks 
had when you were first going to sea.” 

“So,” answered the dockmaster. 

“ He is thinking,” I continued, “ of the various ports he has tc* 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


163 


call at, of the likelihood of detention at them, of the character of 
the weather that may confront him, of his having to discharge and 
take in cargo, and to return here and receive freight and coal, and 
he in readiness to sail punctually on the day appointed by the Post- 
master-General. This is on one side of his mind. On the other 
side is this consideration : if he starts away at once in the face of 
this gale, and injures his ship, or does damage to some other vessel, 
his directors will call him up and want to know why on earth he 
should have been so rash as to jeopardize life and property by at- 
tempting to haul out of dock in the teeth of a raging south-easter.” 

"‘So,” exclaimed the dockmaster. 

“Is it, therefore, very wonderful,” said I, “that the typical 
skipper should, at the age of forty, submit the aspect of a man of 
sixty, with white hair, wrinkled brow, and halting gait? Do I ex- 
press your sentiments?” 

“ Yah, boss,” answered the dockmaster, and with that I left him. 

In any part of Cape Town a south-easter is an abominable thing; 
the atmosphere is clouded with a reddish dust that rises to a great 
height and veils objects as a fog; stones hurtle through the air, and 
many more trees that are actually snapped off would, I think, be 
leveled were it not for the slope they take from these distracting 
hurricanes while young, so that their posture of sharp inclination 
leaves them to a great extent unharmed by the tempest. But the 
south-easter is nowhere more abominable than in the docks. Coal- 
dust blinds the eyes and fills the nostrils. The dust of the town 
falls like rain, chokes the ears, and penetrates the pores of the 
skin. The howling aloft is positively terrifying, and yet the sky is 
of a beautiful blue overhead, and a pale azure down to the horizon. 
You are told, and fully believe, that a few miles out there is prob- 
ably a light air blowing from a contrary direction and perfectly 
smooth, fine- weather water. The whole of the thunderous business 
localized within a circumference small enough for the eye to meas- 
ure is owing to Table Mountain, and the storm-cloud which the 
magic of its cold flat top evokes from the radiant atmosphere about 
it. They call the south-easter at Cape Town “ the Doctor,” and 
conclude that, were it not for these winds, the pestiferous smells 
which hang about the streets in stagnant weather would speedily 
lay the whole of the population low with fever. The theoiy is 
convenient and accommodating, and I do not sa}’- that it is not 
sound. Yet there is a touch of South African laziness in it, too; 
the willingness, in short, to accept this wind as an apology for the 
production of evil smells. Were the south-easters to cease, then, 


164 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


perhaps, the sanitary authorities would go to work to improve the 
drains and make the town sweet; and better, I think, good drainage 
and freedom from storms ferocious enough to hurl down rocks, 
than evil odors, with no other remedy for them than such as Table 
Mountain periodically precipitates. 

There came a lull at last. The captain immediately gave orders; 
warps were run out, and this ship of three hundred and eighty feet 
in length was without misadventure propelled softly through the 
entrance and away out into Table Bay. Here it was blowing great 
guns indeed; but it was an off-shore wind, and the white waters 
were but as ripples as they raced seething forward along our steady 
iron sides. Sure enough, when we had steamed a little to the south- 
ward and westward of Sea Point, we ran out of the gale. You saw 
the line of it dropping astern, a deeply dark blue, with a madness 
in the foaming fling of every surge. It was as plainly deflned, in- 
deed, as a fog bank, and the phenomenon was rendered extraordi- 
narily impressive and majestic by the spectacle of the huge mount- 
ains clothed in a vapor of slate and violet that boiled over crag and 
precipice, and sent down its thunder and fury of wind out of the 
heart of it that raged like the fierce gyrations of clouds rushing and 
melting one into another in the center of a cyclone.* 

The whole of the coast from Table Bay down to Cape Point — in 
other words down to the veritable Cape of Good Hope itself — is 
grand and noble, full of spacious bays terraced by mountains, the 
loom of which makes you think of giants bearing the burden of the 
skies on their rounded backs. Now and again the eye catches the 
white glancing of tracts of sand, otherwise there is little of South 
African suggestion till you round L’ Agulhas. One watches this 
coast with extraordinary interest. It is the southernmost point of 
the burning continent of Africa, and you see L’ Agulhas going down 
in a long slope in the shape of a titanic forefinger pointing to the 
desolation of the mighty Southern Ocean beyond. Once again mem- 
ory recurs to those ancient maritime chronicles of heroic strife and 
triumphant adventure; and to the imaginative gaze this sea wash- 
ing the forefoot of the headlands yonder is wdiitened with the can- 
vas of ships belonging to vanished centuries, with sturdy, bearded 

* “ The south-easter comes from the land with great fury. I have seen ships 
rounding the point with all sail set in a light breeze ; then suddenly meet the 
fiery south-easter on opening the bay, which compelled them to let fiy every- 
thing to save their masts ” (Horsburg). “ Fiery,” may here mean ” fury.” As 
a matter of fact, the south-easter, coming out of the heart of a mass of damp- 
ness, is cold. 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


165 


mariners eagerly gazing at 'the land from under the shade of their 
hands, their brains full of fantastic dreams of wealth and of won- 
ders 

Yet the interests of this sea-board, though not a little romantic in 
their early history, are full of melancholy too. As you steam along 
a dozen tales of shipwreck are repeated, and the later story of the 
coast seems to be almost wholly comprised in annals of peril, sutfer- 
ing, and death. “ Do you see that opening there?” Captain Wait 
says, coming up to me and pointing to the land where a great height 
of cliff falls sheer as though cleft in twain by some cyclopean chisel. 
” That’s Danger Point, and close to it is a rock called Birkenhead 
Rock, because it was there the ‘ Birkenhead ’ struck and found- 
ered.” 

No Englishman could look at the spot without emotion. The 
tribute implied in that wreck to the discipline and manhood of the 
British soldier is so moving, so beautiful, so lustrous, that I can not 
think of any achievement on the field of battle that surpasses it as 
an illustration of the spirit of our troops. There never was a nobler 
funeral, nor did old ocean ever strangle hearts more tender and 
spirits more valorous in her cold embrace. If there be one thing 
more than another that should have conduced to the effective light- 
ing of this coast it must be, you would think, the memory of the 
loss of the “Birkenhead.” I do not mean to say that she was 
wrecked in consequence of the ill lighting of this sea-board; but the 
signifiance the disaster took from the behavior of the men should 
have inspired, one might suppose, a determination to safeguard life 
against these formidable shores as far as it is possible to do so by 
beacons and signals. 

I am sorry to say that the whole of this coast is very badly light- 
ed. I have leaned over the ship’s side at night, watching the sullen 
loom of the land, and wondered as I observed the dangerous char- 
acter of the shore, at the indifference of those whom the colonial 
public render responsible for effective coast lighting to the pressing 
needs of the sailor who has to navigate these waters. In a stretch 
of nine hundred miles of extremely perilous navigation there are 
only thirteen coast lights, those, namely, which are to be found be- 
tween the headland known as Great Paternoster and Port Natal. 
Some elderly nautical gentleman of influence in the Lights depart- 
ment is reported to have declared that light-houses merely tend to 
make the mariner neglectful. On a coast, says this elderly nautical 
authority, where lights are few and far between the mariner will 
proceed cautiously, using his lead, studying his chart, and providing 


166 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


for a respectable offing. Give him plenty of lights, and the chances 
are that his confidence in their indications will end in his ship- 
wreck! This is only to be paralleled by the logic in a board of 
trade answer to a demand for harbors of refuge in England. “If,” 
exclaimed Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, in effect, “we construct har- 
bors of refuge, we shall be rendering the shipowner even more in- 
different to life than he now is, for he will take no care at all to 
render his ships seaworthy, knowing that in times of peril and dis- 
aster there will be plenty of secure havens for the master to fetch 
and ride in?” 

I do not want to contrast the English with the South African 
coast, but I can not help noticing that in two hundred and sixty- 
five miles of English sea-board you have thirteen lights, all of a 
brilliant and specific character, not to mention the innumerable 
illuminations of harbors and so forth; while there are only thirteen 
lights, many of them bad, in nine hundred' miles of perilous coast 
incessantly skirted by mail and other steamers and sailing-vessels, 
carrying in the course of a year thousands of lives and freights of 
an enormous aggregate value! I will briefly describe the lighting 
hereabout in the hope of emphasizing to the Colonial government 
ear the urgent ciy of the mariner who has to do business at the 
South African ports. Starting from Paternoster Point, you steer 
along seventy miles before you come to Kobben Light. Then from 
Cape Point Light you steam past eighty -five miles of frowning, cur- 
rent-ridden, and shoal-laden coast before arriving at Cape Agulhas 
Light-house. Then on through another hundred and twenty miles 
of blackness to Cape St. Blaize, where you find a feeble red light 
that ceases to be deceptive only when it is invisible. Then past one 
hundred and thirty miles of malignant coast to Cape St. Francis, 
be}' ond which there is an interval as far as Cape Recife of forty-five 
miles of lampless sea-board. Then far ^o the north-east is Bird Island 
Light, another red and almost worthless signal, unwisely affirmed 
to be visible ten to twelve miles distant, and designed to guard the 
mariner against one of the most deadly of the many deadly points 
of this coast. Another thirty miles brings you to a green light at 
the mouth of Kowie River — a light of miserable character, reckoned 
to be visible six miles. After sixty-five more miles of blackness 
you make East London Light, and then, until you reach Port Na- 
tal, you must steam a distance of no less than two hundred and fifty 
miles without witnessing any other illumination on shore than the 
dangerous and misleading bush-fires. 

A master of a vessel said to me, ‘ ‘ In spite of the dense fogs which 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


ler 

hang about this coast, in spite of night haze, mist, and mirage, Cape 
Point Light- house is fixed at the height of eight hundred and sixteen 
feet, and though it is supposed to be visible thirty-six miles off, yet 
I have passed it within twelve miles without seeing it. In defiance 
of the atmospheric dangers here the authorities insist upon using 
red lights, utterly regardless of the fact that fog absorbs nearly sev- 
enty-five per cent of red rays. Then you have bush fires, which 
are easily mistaken for the sort of light they think good enough for 
this coast. Only the other day a vessel was stranded in Struys Bay 
through mistaking a bush fire for L’Agulhas Light. Hence you 
see the need of lights of such a distinctive nature as to render it im- 
possible to confound them with the deceptive gleam of the bush 
fire.” 

This question of lights is of paramount importance, and it is to 
be earnestly hoped, not only for the sake of the skipper and the 
mariner, but in the interests of the passenger, that the Cape govern- 
ment will give the subject their immediate and earnest attention. 

It is not without astonishment, mixed with lively admiration, that 
going on deck one morning you behold right in front of you the 
town of Port Elizabeth. You are in Algoa Bay. The ocean-swell 
rolling to this open roadstead heaves the great fabric whose heart 
has stopped its passionate beat, and that now lies rolling solemn te 
its anchor. The eye follows the sandy spit to where the houses 
stand, and there, grouped before you, are the buildings of a popu- 
lous, bright, picturesque town. I can not but think of Port Eliza- 
beth as one of the best illustrations anywhere to be met with of 
English pluck and determination. As you stand on the ship you 
can blot the town from your sight by covering it with your hand; 
then to left and right you see nothing but the barren, fiery, inhos- 
pitable, life-defying African sand. Keep the town covered, and 
think a little of the sort of tem^Dtation those parched and arid wastes 
within the sphere of your view must offer to men in search of a 
spot for building homes for themselves, and then drop your hand 
and look at the town, and judge the w^ouderful spirit that must 
have gone to the creation of those fine buildings and wide streets, 
when choice had been made of this desolate tract of coast as a site 
for a colony. The lack of vegetation gives, indeed, a hardness of 
tone to the place as you view it from the bay; but it is fully as pict- 
uresque as Broadstairs, Ramsgate, or Folkestone, seen from the 
sea, mellowed as the tints of those towns are by time. Port Eliza- 
beth has by no means the brand-new look you would expect in so 
recent a creation. Assume the ship to be lying bow on to the land 


168 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


on the brow of the hill yon perceive the remains of an old fort 
called Fort Frederic, built in times tolerably ancient in the history 
of this town — that is to say, in 1843, when we were fighting the 
Kaffirs. The grouping of the houses gathers density and substan- 
tiality from the new market building and the Public’ Offices. You 
see the spire of the Catholic church peeping over the house-tops; 
the Town Hall; a tall light-house set in the midst of the place to the 
right. The very pleasing picture is a little defonned perhaps by a 
large space of barren ground, dedicated to Elizabeth Lady Donkin, 
from whom the settlement takes its name and whose memory is per- 
petuated by an obelisk or pyramid. This gap is a blot; it is treeless 
and brown with dust and heat. Were it covered with buildings in 
correspondence with those around it, it would be impossible to find 
fault with the spectacle the town presents. Still directing the gaze 
to the right, you see, prominent among the clusters of houses, 
Grey’s Institute and School, Trinity Church, other houses of wor- 
ship, and the large block of the Provincial Hospital. The fore- 
ground is full of the busy suggestions of a railway station and 
goods sheds, of a long embankment, with locomotives puffing as 
they drag trains of trucks after them, of jetties, and of numerous 
lighters, rolling on the blue waters. Away over the flats flows the 
Zwaart-Kops River, and in the far distance you see Winterberg and 
the lofty bloom of the Zuurberg Mountains, with a trend of coast 
terminating in the dim blue of Bird Island.* 

I was so much interested in the mere existence of this place, I 
felt so warm an admiration for the high characterstic of adventurous 
courage which the white town, l3ung radiant in the early morning 
sunshine, expressed and embodied, that I made it my business to 
inquire into its trade and prospects. First of all I wanted to know 
if the Port Elizabeth people had any scheme on hand for providing 
shelter, in excess of that naturally supplied by the long sandy spit, 
to the many ships which bring cargo to Algoa Bay., This question 
will be the first to occur to a man standing as I did on the deck of 
a large mail steamer rolling heavily upon the ocean swell, and 
watching the plunging and tossing of four or five ships and barks 
as they strained at their cables, though there was very little wind, 
and a sky of tropical beauty shone overhead. But it seems that the 
Harbor Board have no scheme of an^'sort in hand. Sir John Coode, 

* Algoa Bay has one feature of extraordinary historic interest ; for near to 
the Bird Island group is St. Croix Island, the first land made by Bartholomew 
Dias after rounding the Cape in 1486. The island took its name from a stone 
cross erected on it by the famous navigator. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


169 


who appears to have inspected all these South African harbors, and 
to have offered many suggestions fruitful of municipal squabbles, 
projected, I believe, a large inclosed, outer dock that was to be 
built of concrete. But the prices of feathers and wool, I presume, 
were not such as to justify the heavy disbursements Sir John 
Coode’s theories of commodiousness and security would involve, 
and the result is the large, inclosed, outer dock, to be built of con- 
crete, remains as it was — an idea only. 

“But how,” I asked, “ do you contrive your loading and dis- 
charging?” 

“ Oh, eatsily enough,” was the answer. “ Those two screw-pile 
jetties there are each of them about eight hundred feet long and 
forty feet wide, and they are fully equipped with powerful travel- 
ing steam-cranes. There is a large fleet of lighters, ranging from 
thirty to a hundred tons each; and these convey cargo to and from 
vessels and the shore.” 

“ How about the safety of ships in heavy weather?” 

‘ ‘ Why. if ships are well found, they may ride as safely here as 
though they were moored in docks.” 

This may be so; but for all that the insurance companies, I hear, 
charge extra rates to vessels trading to these open roadsteads. 

“ What cargoes,” I continued, “ do the sailing-ships bring?” 

“ Chief!}’' coal for the railway and for the mines up at Kimberley. 
We have many small ships arriving with coffee from Rio Janeiro, 
timber from the Baltic, and kerosene and Yankee ‘ notions ’ from 
the States.” 

“ How is trade?” 

“ Well, Port Elizabeth has shared in the general depression 
throughout the colony. Money is very scarce among the farmers, 
and I will explain why by an example. Take ostrich feathers. In 
1884-5, the weight of this article exported hence was pretty much 
the same in both years, but there was a decrease in value to the 
amount of £372,263. The exact flgures are £579,152 in 1884, and 
£306,889 in 1885. Oiir other staples, wool and mohair, have also 
depreciated, and hence the depression we are all suffering from.” 

“ 1 understand that your population has decreased; is not that a 
bad sign?” 

“ Well, yes; to a certain extent, though the diminution is due not 
to voluntary withdrawals, but to dismissals from the staffs of the 
various stores, offices, and banks, because labor was very much in 
excess of the demand for it. A few years ago there were about six- 


170 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


teen tliousand whites; now there are about ten thousand; but the 
blacks are abominably numerous.” 

I laughed to hear this, for it is a grievance not without a char- 
acter of humor. Everywhere here the complaint is that Massa 
Jumbo multiplies a very great deal too fast; that he has no other 
ambition in life than to secure dollai'S enough from the white man 
to enable him to buy heads of cattle to exchange for wives. J um- 
bo’s dignity depends upon the number of his consorts, for the sim- 
ple reason that they represent property. Pickaninnies are necessarily 
numerous;, they of course flourish famously in a climate designed 
by nature for races who abhor raiment. The white man*is unequal 
to the contest Massa Jumbo proposes, and it sometimes looks to me 
as tlfbugh the towns which Europeans have erected upon the plains 
and sandy shores of South Africa were, at no very remote time, to 
be occupied by that Jumbo whose prolificness is the white man’s 
despair. Spite of this theory of an outsider, however, it is the opin- 
ion of the people of Port Elizabeth that the town has a great future. 

“It is the port of Kimberley and the Diamond Fields, ” said a 
gentleman to me. 

“ But are they still very prosperous at Kimberley?” said I. 

“ Yes,” he answered. 

“Then what is the meaning of this?” I exclaimed, and I pro- 
duced a cutting from a Kimberley paper that had been sent to me 
a few days previously. I read it aloud, and it ran thus- “We have 
a strong desire to warn people out of employment at a distance 
from the Diamond Fields against coming to these parts in search of 
work. Day after day the post-cart, the mule and ox-wagon, and 
the railway train bring unfortunates here. Unsuccessful in other 
places, they seem to have an idea that anybody and everybody can 
have a chance of doing well on the Diamond Fields. Men of re- 
spectability and excellent testimonials; men . with a little capital 
sufficierit to cari-y them on for a week or two in the dispiriting hunt 
for a billet; men with no character or recommendations, but with a 
strong capacity for work, and men who are the veritable weeds of 
society — they all come! It should be widely known throughout the 
colony that there is less chance of needy men obtaining employment 
in the Fields than there is in many colonial towns; and it is posi- 
tively heart-rending to see respectable-looking fellows tramping the 
streets and hanging about corners weary with the sad and sorry 
duty of looking for a job, and beholding with grim despair the 
dread prospect of entering the large army of loafers.” 

“ What paper is that taken from?” asked my companion. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


171 


“ The ‘ Diamond Fields Advertiser,’ ” I answered. 

“Humph!” he exclaimed. 

“ It bears out,” I continued, “ what was told me in Cape Town 
— that there is no room for the emigrant. I have already had the 
evidence of the farm and the field. You have here the testimony 
of the city apd the town. Kimberley has. apparently come to the 
end of its tether. ’ ’ 

“ No, no,” said he. 

“ Well,’’ said I, “ they are saying so there, anyhow.” 

“ Touching Port Elizabeth,” said he, “ Kimberley, such as it is, 
and such as it may ultimately prove, is not our only supporter. ^Xe 
are the nearest port to the new Crown colony of Bechuanaland and 
the territories stretching northward to the Zambesi.” 

“ But what is the good,” I exclaimed, “ of the new Crown col- 
ony of Bechuanaland and of the territories stretching northward to- 
the Zambesi, if they are not colonized, if they are not rendered pro- 
ductive by labor; if, in short, they have nothing to export or re- 
ceive through you?” 

“ But,” said he, “ spite of what you may have learned at Cai^e 
Town, what we are all saying here is that the one thing wanted for 
our immediate advance is population to occupy the great country 
extending far into the interior. I venture to say,” he continued,, 
emphatically, “that if the hundreds’ of thousands who are strug- 
gling for bare existence in Great Britain were transferred to South 
Africa life might, indeed, be quite as hard for them, but it would 
be fought out under infinitely healthier conditions.” 

Meanw'hile the large ocean steamship I am aboard of lies rolling 
at her anchor. Dip, dip, wash, wash! The monotonous motion 
goes on with its regular creaking and grinding of bulkheads, the 
jar of doors upon hooks, the sliding of movable objects from side 
to side. There are twenty things of beauty to look at — a graceful 
bark of the old pattern, painted green, with new sheathing lustrous 
as gold, courtesyiug her white figure head to us, then dipping her 
broadside till her rail looks flush with the sparkling blue swell, her 
masts with the topgallant yards down sweeping their delicate fibrine 
outlines of shroud and stay and running gear upon the soft azure 
beyond, against which, on the sandy ridge, the toy-like houses of 
Port Elizabeth mark their proportions with a purity of outline and 
a tenderness of tint that makes a wonder of the sunlighted picture. 
The lighters alongside rise and fall with a foaming between of white 
waters, which wfink as though strewn with gems when the droop of 
the swell throw^s the shadow off them and leaves them seething fair 


172 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


to the sun; there is a constant lifting of casks and bales and the 
like to the discordant rattle of the winch; and a perpetual contor- 
tion of black figures, agitated, distracted, and howling as they 
tumble about in the lighters to keep clear of the rising weights. 
[Many hammer-headed sharks, with their large eyes staring lan- 
guishingly, crab-like, at the extremities of the projection on their 
heads, swim so close to the surface that their black fins show often 
wet and gleaming on the brow of the swell; they cruise in restless 
rounds, and with malignant sweeps of their barbed tails. While 
watching them I think of what befell a bather in these waters not 
very long ago. He had dived from the head of that jetty yonder 
on the left, and was swimming to regain it when a shark nipped his 
leg off just above the knee, and I am told that had a surgeon ap- 
plied his saw the amputation could not have been more perfect. 
The poor fellow was dragged on to the jetty by a boy, carried to 
the hospital, and, wonderful to relate, might have been seen a foit- 
night afterward hobbling about the town on crutches, looking, on 
the whole, in a pretty good state of health. 

And the gulls! I confess I was never weary of following the 
flight of these lovely birds, with their wings of brown velvet, edged 
with ermine. We do not tarry long in Algoa Bay, for it is our 
business to call again on the return journey to the Cape, but the 
afternoon is far advanced ’before we lift our anchor from the 
ground, and, as we slowly steam out to sea, bowing with majestic 
motion to the smooth round-backed swell tliat comes lifting to close 
under the hawse-pipes, I stand watching the town of Port Elizabeth 
slowly darkening, with its higher roofs outlined in ebony against a 
sky crimson with sunset, and looking as though it throbbed and 
waved in folds of rose and gold with the ardency of the palpitating 
orb hidden behind the mountain ranges beyond. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

TO EAST LONDON. 

The night came down dark with tropical suddenness; a deeper 
shadow yet gathered over the land, and presently there was an 
amazing display of lightning. Flashes of delicate violet, of a sun- 
bright yellow tinge, of an emerald green, darted like hurled lances 
from out the bodies of dense vapor and sparkled rich in the smooth 
sea, in the midst of which the share of our keel was rending a line 
of liquid light. There was no thunder, but the lightning was con- 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


173 


tinuous, with something even of awful beauty in its incessant play 
and in the variety of its magnificent colors. Now and again a large 
space of sky would open with a fiash of splendor surpassing the 
noontide effulgence of the day, and you seemed to peer through 
this aperture into the very glory of heaven itself. Occasionally 
there would be a sparking out of half a dozen white fiashes at once, 
and the brow of the mountains stood black to the dazzle; and then 
it was for all the world like a discharge of giant artillery, though 
the illusion ceased with the flashes, as no uproar of thunder fol- 
lowed. 

But, traveling at the rate of thirteen nautical miles an hour, a 
ship soon speeds out of one kind of weather into another, and some 
while before it was time to go to bed we had sunk the storm-clouds 
and their levin-brands below the horizon; the stars were shining in 
their mju’iads in the velvet-like gloom on high, and by staring ear- 
nestly away on the port beam you could just make out the shadow 
of the land with a red tinge or two upon it where the bush or the 
grass was burning. 

AVhen the morning came the daylight showed us the now familiar 
picture of a glistening sandy foreshore, backed by mountains which, 
from the excessive rarefaction of the atmosphere, gathered an as- 
pect of Andean altitude. The desolation of the coast grew un- 
pleasanlly oppressive as one leaned over the side watching it. Old 
narratives of shipwreck came into my head, and I was now able to 
realize the misery of sailors and passengers cast away upon this 
shore with a sharpness not to be got from the perusal of boolvs. A 
little higher up there occurred in 1782 probably the most memorable 
wreck — that of the “ Grosvenor,” East Indiaman — to be found in 
the maritime annals. She was bound from Ceylon, and, the position 
of this coast being in those days erroneously marked on the chart, 
she went ashore during tolerably heavy weather, and, after a little, 
broke in two. The story is much too well known to bear retelling 
here. The peculiar interest it has is largely owing to the tale of 
some of the female passengers having been carried off by the natives 
and made wives of, and by their offspring, so it is declared, existing 
in the shape of a yellow race who are remarkable for their cunning, 
cowardice, and ferocity.* There is a curious note on this subject 


* There is an old rumor that on board the “ Grosvenor ” were General or Col- 
onel Campbell and two daughters. These daughters are said to have been 
made wives of by the natives, and it is declared that when their friends found 
them out they refused to leave from feelings of shame. Certain it is that near 
the Umgazi River are living a small clan of light-colored Kaffirs, many of whom 


174 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


in a history of the colony, dated about 1840, that I was looking at 
one day in the library at Cape Town. The passage is worth tran- 
scribing, 

“ There are,” says this historian, “ in the vicinity of Port Natal, 
and probably in the interior, tribes of yellow men, with long, red- 
dish beards and flowing hair, descendants of shipwrecked Euro- 
peans. On the 4th of August, 1782, the Honorable East India 
Company’s ship ‘ Grosvenor ’ was wrecked on the coast of Natal, 
but a few of her people were able to reach the then Dutch colony at 
the Cape, where they reported that many of their friends had been 
left alive among the natives. The Dutch government sent a party 
to search for them, but they only penetrated as far as one of the 
Kei River branches. At the request of the British government an- 
other search was made in 1790. This expedition was under the 
command of Jacobus van Renen, who discovered a village in which 
were people who were manifestly descended from whites. There 
were three old women among them who had been shipwrecked 
when children, and who had been taken as wives by Oemtonone, 
the chief of the Hambonas, or yellow-colored men. They proved 
to be sisters, but being very young at the time of the wreck, they 
could not say to what nation they belonged. The remains of the 
‘ Grosvenor ’ were seen by Van Renen’s party, and at the time of the 
expedition the descendants of the white people numbered four hun- 
dred, The old women seemed much pleased at first by Mr. van 
Renen’s offer to restore them to people of their own color, but on 
his return from the wreck they refused to leave their children and 
grandchildren and the country in which they had so long resided, 
where it must also be observed they were treated as beings of a 
superior race. It appears,” continues the historian, “that this 
tribe of mulattoes have been driven from their settlement in Ham- 
bona by the Zulus, who have invaded that country. Mr, Thomson, 
in his interesting journey to Latakoo, says that yellow men, with 
long hair, who were described as cannibals, were among the invad- 
ing hordes who were then scouring the country, devastating all be- 
fore them like a flight of locusts. The unfortunate Lieutenant 
Farewell, when residing at Natal, had pointed out to him one of 
these yellow men among the king’s suite, who was described as a 


are supposed to be the descendants of the unfortunate passengers and crew of 
this ill-fated ship ” (“ Natal Mercury ”)• The dates given render it impossible 
that these yellow people originated with the survivors of the “ Grosvenor.” The 
“ old women ” must have been the result of a wreck very long antecedent to 
that of the East Indiaman. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


175 


cannibal. The yellow man shrunk abashed from Lieutenant Fare- 
well. There can be no doubt that these descendants of Europeans 
and Africans are now widely ramifying their offspring throughout 
the country, and their services might be turned to good account in 
civilizing the native tribes. ” Thus the historian — and there is no 
reason to doubt the correctness of his conjecture touching the origin 
of the yellow race, though that origin must not be sought among 
the survivors of the “ Grosvenor;” but if these people have the 
principles and qualities I am told they possess, it is certain we must 
seek elsewhere for a civilizing influence for the native tribes. 

It is worth stating that after the lapse of a hundred and four 
years a gentleman named Turner, who resides at the entrance of the 
Umkwani River, Pondoland, which is close to the spot where the 

Grosvenor ” was wrecked, has given notice of a light to be ex- 
hibited at that place from the date of the notice, viz. , October 14, 
1885, Thus by degrees do the colonials of South Africa illustrate 
their theory of progress.* 

The coast improves as j^ou approach East London, and the scenery 
round about the port itself is rendered not a little pleasing, after the 
monotonous glare of sand, by dense masses of vegetation crowning 
the ridges and coming low to where the high breakers flash up in 
foam. Yet the one feature of sand is everywhere visible, too. You 
see spaces of it gleaming white amid the dense growths; and the 
treeless and shrubless line of it may be tracked through wood and 
bush, as though it were the withering and blighting slime left in 
the trail of some deadly leviathan serpent. The wonder is, seeing 
how the soil appears to be formed of sand, that this land should 
yield any sort of vegetation. But yet more wonderful is it to me, 
w-hen I look at this coast, always melancholy and even forbidding 
in spite of its spaces of verdure and of the beautiful heavens which 
glow over it and of the grandeur of the deep blue sea which thun- 
ders in snow upon its unechoing strand, that any sort or condition 
of men should have thought it, to quote Jairing’s Waiter, worth 

* Some remains of the “ Grosvenor ” were discovered two or three years 
ago. They compi'ised, among other things, gold, silver, and copper coins ce- 
mented into oxidized iron, the vessel having been ballasted with pig-iron. 
Above high-water mark were found large piles of charcoal and remains of fires, 
where the Kaffirs had burned the wreckage to extract the bolts, etc. Nine of 
the cannon carried by the “ Grosvenor,” together with portions of the iron 
ballast, were lying among the rocks. There is a tradition that a box of treasure 
is buried near the spot where the ship was lost. A very full account of this 
wreck may be found in ” The Mariner’s Chronicle,” by Archibald Duncan, pub- 
lished in 1804. 


176 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


while ” to build a town upon it. Such as the town is, only a small 
portion of it is visible from the roadstead. You see a handful of 
houses of a somewhat hard and granite-like complexion standing 
beyond the massive breakwater with its fortress-like head. A few 
roofs of the little suburb or district of Panmure appear over the 
brow of the hill. A short distance iuland you catch sight of some 
pretty little homesteads, while on the near foreground, upon such 
herbage as grows on these African pastures, you see tents of various 
sizes and shapes judged by me to represent picnic parties from the 
interior, until a gentleman, well-acquainted with the place, said 
that he did not like to see so many tents; he was afraid they meant 
something more than mere pleasuring; in other words, that the peo- 
ple in them had been forced by the general depression into coming 
down here and living cheaply under canvas. 

One extraordinary contrast I noticed; just past a ridge w^as the 
roof of a large traveling circus, with a bright flag flying from a 
little pole on top of it; and directly in a line with this circus there 
lay on the beach the black wreck of a ship of probably a thousand 
tons. Such a typification of extremes is not often encountered; I 
mean the profoundly desolate and tragical suggestions of this 
stranded hulk exhibiting with ugly clearness its bruised and bat- 
tered bones, topped by an object in a peculiar degree expressive of 
light-hearted merriment and gay vitality. But this is not the only 
wreck. The curve of the coast is literally strewn with broken fab- 
rics and fragments of vessels. There is a notion here that when 
an owner wants to lose his ship he will send her to one of these 
roadsteads — to Durban, East London, or Mossel Bay. Nothing is 
needed but defective ground-tackle, I am told. 

“ But is the captain willing to risk his life?” said I. 

“ Oh,” was the answer, “ he knows all about it, and is usually 
ashore when the vessel parts.” 

The river has a bar, as I believe all African rivers have, and a 
very menacing object I thought it looked as I stood watching the 
swell boiling upon -it. There was, indeed, a strong heave in the 
sea, though there was little wind and the weather was very fine. 
The weight that the mighty Southern Ocean puts into its lightest 
swell you felt in the rolling of the ship; yet for all that I gazed 
with surprise at the great upheavals of foam against the head and 
around the sides of the breakwater and upon the bar. It was im- 
possible to find justification for such a display of wrath, not only 
there, but along the shore, in the folds which came lifting out of 
the blue of the great deep. What sort of spectacle this roadstead 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


m 


must present during one of those savage south-westers which blow 
here I could only surmise by observing the character of the combers 
which fell in shocks and in high spurtings of white against the 
breakwater and coast on a placid summer day, when the movement 
of the sea was little more than a light swell. I was told that from 
January, 1881, to February, 1886, eleven sailing-vessels, represent- 
ing 4457 tons, have been lost off East London, and thirty-one hands 
drowned. This seems to be belied by the number of wrecks, the 
remains of which form a deciedly ghastly feature of this part of 
the coast. But then, to be sure, many of these stranded craft may 
now be old relics of disaster. The loss of life, that is to say the 
drowming of the thirty-one men, happened on July 25, 1881, w'hen 
three vessels were driven ashore in a south-west gale, and went to 
pieces before help could be rendered. The worst case was that of 
a small bark. The captain was ashore when the vessel parted, but 
his son was on board. She struck directlj^ opposite Bat’s Cave, and 
was dashed to pieces within twenty minutes. I was informed that 
little can be done to improve the present arrangements. ‘ ‘ There 
are powerful steam-tugs, ' ’ I was told, “ in the river, which often 
assist vessels in distress. Instances of well-found ships coming 
ashore are very rare, indeed, for the holding-ground is good and the 
worst wind is from the southwest, so that we are not a dead lee-shore. 
The dangerous time is when the wind veers to the south, moderates 
but blows straight on shore, bringing with it a heavy swell raised 
by the weather outside.” 

“ What do you export?” I asked. 

” The usual South African staples— wool, ostrich- feathers, skins,, 
hides, and mohair. Lately we have been sending a native box- 
wood, of which there is a great abundance in the neighborhood, to 
the London market. This boxwood, we believe, will speedily form 
an important item of trade. We also export gum in small quan- 
tities.” 

” Have you any railway facilities?” 

“Yes; we are connected with King William’s Town, forty- two- 
miles; Queenstown, one hundred and fifty-two miles; and Aliwal 
North,* two hundred and eighty miles. Other transport is managed 
by wagons drawn by sixteen oxen, each carrying about eight thou- 
sand pounds; these travel at the rate of twenty miles a day. We 
have post-carts for mails and passengers at regular inter srals, which 
cover about eighty miles a day.” 


* A town on the Orange River. 


178 


A YOTAGE TO THE CAPE. 


“ Your bar there looks dangerous; is it so?” 

“To a very small extent onl}", owing to the breakwater. No 
lives have been lost since November, 1882, when two lighters were 
capsized and some of their crew drowned.” 

“ What sort of climate have you?” 

“ Well, on the whole, we have a veiy pleasant climate. Decem- 
ber, January, and February are, of course, our hot months, and 
then the heat is somewhat oppressive, but the wind comes strong 
from the sea and keeps us sweet and healthy all the year round.” 

So much for this strange little seaport, built on either side a river 
rich in scenery, and startling a new-comer by its existence amid a 
desolation more absolute than the poet Cowper makes Alexander 
Selkirk lament. 

Any youth desirous of going to sea should make a voyage to this 
roadstead and lie in it for about a fortnight, for here surely he 
W’ould graduate to perfection in the matter of sea legs. The swell 
increased some six hours or so before we got our anchor up, and 
though I have outweathered a few stormy days in my time, I can 
not recall the like of this tumblefication. I do not say that the roll- 
ing is worse off East London than it is off Durban, off Port Eliza- 
beth, or in Mossel Bay. But two whites do not make a black, and 
it is not because the heaving is not worse here than it is in other 
roadsteads on this coast that it is not abominably bad all the same. 
The modern mail steamer, with her great length, narrow beam, and 
w^all sides, possesses the art of wallowing in perfection. “ They all 
roll,” said an old captain tome, “and the one you’re aboard of 
always seems to roll the worst of the whole blessed tribe.” The 
“ Spartan ” is no exception, and had she carried square jmrds there 
w'ere moments when I should have looked to see the yardarms har- 
pooning the swell. But then a line-of-battle ship of the old pattern, 
all beam, would roll in these roads to her anchor like an empty 
cask. The current swings the ship into the hollow. and off she goes 
like a pendulum. The engineer of the “ Spartan,” a large, stout 
Scotchman, told me that, used as he was to this Wallowing busi- 
ness, he could seldom get sleep of a night for being rolled out of 
his bunk. Out he would come as punctually as the ship heeled, 
and I would come too with the same punctuality if I was caught 
napping by the swell with my grip of anything to hold on tc re- 
laxed. Off Durban, I was told, a transport during the Zulu war 
rolled so heavily that she killed half the troopers’ horses in her, and 
the surrounding ships watched her people dropping the dead brutes 
overboard. To save the rest of the animals she had to put to sea 


A YOTAGE TO THE CAPE. 


179 


and meet the swell head on. The next morning when she was 
looked for she was perceived hull down on the horizon. A mail 
steamer lying off East London rolled so fearfully that the lady pas- 
sengers became hysterical, and the captain, to silence their shrieks 
and soothe their terrors, had to do what the transport did — shove 
out to sea and find a quieter motion with his anchor stowed. 
After the passage to the Cape, with its smooth waters, lovely skies, 
and balmy breezes, the coastwise voyage is like a Cape Horn ex- 
perience in June, without the ice. It is a thing not to be recom- 
mended to invalids or to nervous people. 

But, happily, the interior may be penetrated -without the obliga- 
tion of skirting the coast. Cape Town being reached, the whole 
climatic area of South Africa is accessible by rail, post-cart, or 
wagon. I remember, after leaving East London, talking to a med- 
ical man of considerable colonial experience upon the benefit offered 
to sufferers by a residence in South Africa. It was a lovely after- 
noon. The water was of a deep blue, with a gentle swell, polished 
as molten glass. Under the quarter-deck awning many passenger’s 
lounged indolently, reading or conversing, and some of them sleep- 
ing. There was a cool air caused by the vessel’s progress that 
sweetly fanned the burning cheek. Through the blue atmosphere 
you saw the coast — high mountains behind and a foreshore of sand- 
hills, jet covered, apparently, with plenty of rich vegetation — loom- 
ing or^ gleaming out in yellow or slate or green, with sulphur-colored 
clouds hanging over it in places along with the pale smoke of bush 
fires. On our starboard bow the Indian Ocean swung in folds to a 
horizon faint in the fiery atmosphere — 

“ As when to them who sail 
Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past 
Mosambic, oflf at sea north-east winds blow 
Sabeean odor from the spicy shore 
Of Araby the blest: with such delay 
Well pleas’d, they slack their course, and many a league, 
Cheer’d with the grateful smell, old Ocean smiles,” 

The air was delicious for softness and sweetness, and that inde- 
scribable quality of buoyancy which the ocean puts into its breezes. 
One noticed the effect of it upon a young lady ill with consump- 
tion. She seemed to brisken and brighten to every respiration, and 
it was the seeing this that caused me to speak to the medical gentle- 
man I have referred to and ask him to tell me anything about the 
climate of South Africa likely to be of interest and of use to the 


180 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


thousands who are suffering at home from the one great, pest and 
scourge of Great Britain — phthisis 

“ Well,” he exclaimed, “ I have had experience covering a good 
many years now, and my deliberate opinion is that there is no 
climate in the world comparable with that of South Africa for the 
treatment of consumiJtion. There is not a town in the colony in 
which you will not find a number of persons who originally came 
out at a time when the disease had such a grip of them as to render 
them the despair of their medical advisers. These persons must 
certainly have died in England. Let me give you one out of many 
remarkable instances. Twenty-seven years ago a gentleman, now a 
well-known and opulent merchant in Port Elizabeth, left Scotland 
for this colony for the sake of his brother, who was fast dying from 
consumption. That brother is not only now alive, but is living at 
this moment in Glasgow, so perfectly recovered by this climate that 
for the last ten years he has not known an hour’s pain or illness.” 

‘‘lam bound to say,” I exclaimed, ‘‘ that I have heard of many 
similar instances.” 

“The reason why this climate,” he continued, “is so wonder- 
fully curative in its infiuence upon consumption is extremely easy 
to understand. Except at the coast ports it is extraordinarily diy, 
and next it is greatly elevated about the sea-level. South Africa is, 
in fact, a series of table lands. There are three distinct elevations 
before the plains of the Free State are reached.” 

“ Are there any specially good places for consumptives?” 

“ Almost any part of the colony up country is good; but the 
Cradock plateau, the country about Beaufort West, Ceres, Grahams- 
town, and Hanover within the colony are the places to which 1 
should recommend invalids. The best place of all, however, is, in 
my opinion, the Free State — either Boshof or Bloemfontein. The 
air is really a wonder for clearness, sweetness, and crispness.” 

“ You fully believe in the South African climate?” 

“ I do, fully, from the bottom of my heart — for consumption, of 
course. In the voyage out you will find the best physic in the 
world for many other complaints.” 

“But,” said I, “unfortunately your hotels are bad; you have 
many natural springs of great virtue, but the bathing accommoda- 
tion is crude, rough, and would be thought insufferable by people 
accustomed to the spas of Europe. Added to this, when the rail- 
way journey comes to an end, and many more miles have to be 
measured, the roads are, as a rule, so abominable, the means of 
locomotion so wretchedly primitive, and the inconvenience in many 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


181 


other respects so great that it seems almost cruel to recommend pa- 
tients to come here.” 

“ Well,” he answered, “what you say about the hotels is per- 
fectly true; but let this colony be visited as the south of Europe is, 
or Madeira, and you would soon find the people going to work to 
correct the crudities and inconveniences you speak of. In what 
you say about locomotion you scarcely do us justice. I admit that 
formerly the difficulty of traveling up country was so great as to 
offer a reall}’’ insuperable objection to the visits of patients to South 
Africa, But now you have a railway that conveys passengers from 
Cape Town or Port Elizabeth or Kimberley in Pullman cars. And, 
being at Kimberley, you have Boshof within thirty miles of you, 
and Bloemfontein within seventy. The lack of hotel and hoarding- 
house accommodation is unquestionably a serious drawback. But 
some little movement — I believe in the right direction — is being 
made at Boshof and Bloemfontein by the medical men there receiv- 
ing patients into their homes.” 

“ Well, sir,” I exclaimed, “ if I could save but one life by in- 
ducing a single sufferer to visit the colony upon my recommenda- 
tion, I should feel that I had not passed through existence with 
out doing some good. What month ought to be chosen for leav- 
ing England?” 

“ October, certainly, so as to escape the November cold; this 
brings you to the Cape in the early summer, and you may linger in 
the suburbs of Cape Town for at least a month if you please. My 
advice, however, would be for a patient to proceed up country at 
once; it is certainly his business to make haste to go where he is 
likely to recover. ’ ’ 

The judgment I have deliberately arrived at after making many 
inquiries, talking with many persons, and looking about me for 
myself, is that consumptive persons ought not to despair until they 
have given South Africa a trial. I have spoken very candidly of 
the discomforts and inconveniences of travel in these parts— all of 
which are, in my opinion, due to the reckless neglect of the colon- 
ials, to that spirit of indolence which is the most distinctive of all 
the features of South African life, and which is at the very bottom 
of the reason why South Africa is so much behind in the colonial 
race that she is almost out of it. But life is precious, and health is 
a goddess that inhabits the rocks and the mountain-top, as well as 
the verdant and flowery plain easy of access and sweet to walk in. 
She is surely worth seeking, and if she is to be found on the plat- 
eaus of the southernmost portions of the Dark Continent, she 


182 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


should he sought there with as little reference as possible to the 
hinderances with which colonial laziness suffers the road to her to 
remain encumbered. Here am I, leaning over the rail of an ocean 
steamer, waiting for the light-house at Durban to heave into view; 
and as I taste the unspeakable sweetness of the ocean aromas in the 
wind, and as I watch the distant mountains raising their azure 
heights to the soft, bronzed clouds, and as I witness the glory of 
the blue of the sky, and feel the influence of the high sun raining 
his white light in such a dazzle as the eye never beholds in Eng- 
land, I can not but feel that the verdurous districts beyond those 
dim heights there must, by reason of the enormous choice of cli- 
matic area they offer, be full of life-giving properties, and of golden 
promise to many a grieving and languishing invalid who has visited 
other places in search of health, and knows not now whither to 
direct his steps. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

shipwreck: its tragedies and comedies. 

While talking with Mr. Martyr, the chief officer of the “ Spar- 
tan,'’ about the loss of the “ Grosvenor ” and of the wrecks which 
lay along the East London coast, he told me a curious story. He was 
second mate of the “ European,” a steamer that was lost s(vme years 
ago off Ushant. The vessel when she struck was homeward bound 
from the Cape. One of the passengers had asked Mr. Martyr to put a 
packet of diamonds belonging to him in the mail-room, and this was 
done. Finding the vessel to be sinking the captain ordered the second 
mate to get up the bags containing the mails. As he vjas going below 
for that purpose the owner of the diamonds implored him to bring 
his parcel up along with the bags. Mr. Martyr descended at the 
risk of his life — he graphically described his feelings as he heard 
the cascading sounds of water rushing into the mail-room! — passed 
up the bags, seized the parcel, and gave it to its owner, who rushed 
into his cabin, put the parcel down in his bunk while he slipped on 
a great-coat, and then bolted on deck, leaving the parcel behind 
him. 

I have often thought that incidents of shipwreck — or what might 
more fitly be termed the curiosities of marine disaster — would form 
an entertaining and instructive volume. In the narrative of the loss 
of the “ Kent,” published in 1825, there is a passage the truth of 
which has been confirmed by nearly every shipwreck that has taken 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


183 


place. “ Instead ’’—says the author, speaking of the behavior of 
the people on board that doomed ship — “instead of being able to 
trace among my numerous associates that diversity of fortitude 
which I should have expected, a priori, would mark their conduct 
— forming, as it were, a descending series, from the decided heroism 
exhibited by some down to the lowest degree of pusillanimity and 
frenz}' discoverable in others — I remarked that the mental condition 
of my fellow-sufferers was rather divided by a broad, but, as it 
afterward appeared, not impassable line, on the one side of which 
w^ere ranged all whose minds were greatly elevated by the excite- 
ment above their ordinary standard; and on the other was to be 
seen the incalculably smaller, but more conspicuous group, whose 
powers of acting and thinking became absolutely paralyzed, or w^ere 
driven into delirium by the unusual character and pressure of the 
danger.” The history of shipwreck shows that after the first panic 
human nature settles down into a sort of level. Of course, time 
must be allowed. Let a cry of “ fire!” be raised; let a captain in a 
gale of wind with the sails in rags, the top-masts overboard, and 
the water washing up to the hatchways, put on a long face, roll up 
his eyes, and exclaim, “Lord deliver us! we are all lost!” and a 
hundred marvelous exhibitions of courage and cowardice, of resig- 
nation and despair, will be witnessed; but as the fire does not rapid- 
ly encroach, as the ship continues to fioat, as, in short, the mind 
finds leisure to witness the situation, to realize whatever the chances 
may be, a kind of uniformity of behavior will prevail. The coward 
ceases to moan and weep, the brave man breaks from the iron bonds 
of his will and forsakes his posture of heroic stubbornness for a 
bearing that denotes a hungering after life, a passionate desire to 
create or to grasp opportunities. Many varieties of moods are 
merged, until the inevitable moment arrives, when once again panic 
will work like madness, only very often in those natures which time 
and contemplation of the peril have transformed; so that it may 
liappen that he who showed a craven heart at the beginning goes to 
his grave without sign of agitation, while the man who promised an 
heroical death encounters his fate when it comes with a terror which 
gives to the recollection of the survivors the darkest color to the 
whole miserable picture. 

In this same little volume on the loss of the old East Indiaman by 
fire in the Bay of Biscay there are several striking instances of in- 
dividual conduct. For example, when it was seen that the fire was 
gaining fast, and while several hundreds of barely clothed people 
were rushing about the decks in quest of husbands, children, or 


184 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


parents, several old soldiers and sailors, giving up all hope, but 
without making any fuss, went and sullenly seated themselves 
directly over the magazine, where for some time they remained 
with folded arms and wooden faces waiting for the powder to 
catcli, so that there might he an end at once to their sufferings. It 
is difficult to recall the picture of the flaming ship, rolling heavily 
upon the high sea, and rushing forward like some maddened thing 
of instinct, without finding a prominent and striking feature of tlie 
wild scene in those old soldiers and sailors, sitting in a group upon 
that part of the deck immediately above the magazine, waiting and 
yearning for the explosion. Think of the lifetime of feeling crowded 
into those moments; think of the expressions those stubborn, storm- 
beaten faces would wear, and the look in their eyes, glistening red 
as they turned them upon the people rushing past, crying and 
wringing their hands as they sped hither and thither!* 

There is another touch in this same little book that moves one to 
read, as though the thing it tells of happened yesterday. “ I was 
much affected,” says the writer, “ with the appearance and conduct 
of some of the dear children, who, quite unconscious in the cuddy 
cabins of the perils that surrounded them, continued to play as 
usual with their little toys in bed, or to put the most innocent and 
unseasonable questions to those arouiid them.” It is where the 
calmness is supreme that the pathos is deepest, as we find it, for 
instance, in that figure of a young military officer, with his face full 
of tranquil thought, taking a lock of hair from his writing-case, 
and placing it in his breast over liis heart. 

A very different object is that old pig-tailed fellow wlioni Joha 
Byron wrote about in his description of the loss of the ” Wager.” 
“ One man in particular,” says he, ” in the ravings of despair, was 


* I am reminded here of some stirring stanzas by Mr. Gerald Massey — 

“ Lord 1 how they shame the hfe we lead, 

These sailors of our sea-girt isle, 

Who cheerily take what tliou may give 
And go down with a heavenward smile I 

“ The men who sow their lives to yield 
A glorious crop in lives to be; 

Who turn to England’s harvest-field 
Th' unfruitful furrows of the sea. 

“ With such a breed of men so brave, 

The Old Land has not had her day ; 

But long her strength, with crested wave, 

Shall ride the seas the proud old way,’^ 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


185 


Seen stalking about the deck, flourishing a cutlass over his head, 
calling himself king of the country, and striking every person he 
came near, till his companions, flnding no other security against his 
tyranny, knocked him down.” It was not many of the old Jacks 
who so acted. Daniel Monro, of the frigate “La Tribune,” that 
was wrecked off Halifa^c, Nova Scotia, in 1797, furnishes a lively 
illustration of the curiosities of shipwreck. The hull of the ship 
was under water; the dead were floating about in all directions; the 
foremast stood, and Daniel Monro was fortunate enough to gain 
the top, that is, the platform, in those days circular, fitted below 
the head of the lower-mast. He disappeared suddenly, and a sailor 
named Dunlop, who was in the top, supposed that he had let go and 
was washed away. Two hours elapsed, at the expiration of which 
time Dunlop was amazed to see Daniel’s head rising through the 
lubber’s hole. When asked where he had been he replied that, not 
finding the top comfortable, he had dropped overbf»ard and cruised 
about for a better berth, but not meeting with anything to suit him, 
though he had swam about the wreck for a considerable time, and 
overhauled her thoroughly, he had returned to the fore-shrouds, 
climbed into the cat-harpings under the top, and slept there for an 
hour. “ He appeared,” says the narrative, “ greatly refreshed.” 

Among the curiosities of shipwreck I should like to rank the con- 
fusion caused by live-stock — particularly pigs. I remember once 
being in a ship in a violent gale, off an Australian headland. A 
great sea tumbled on board abaft the fore- rigging, swept everything 
aft, and stove in the cuddy front. Among the wreckage floating 
and washing about in that cabin were several pigs, which had 
been dashed from their moorings under the long-boat, and their 
squeaks, grunts, and yells made the distraction of that moment 
absolutely horrible. In the wreck of a steamer named the “ Killar- 
ney,” many years ago, the first efforts of the men were directed to 
throwing a deck cargo of upward of four hundred pigs overboard 
to lighten the vessel. For several hours the sailors were chasing 
the animals, “ but,” says the narrative, “ overboard it was impos- 
sible to get the pigs. They clung to the vessel as if they were 
destined to be her destruction.” A more terribly lively scene it 
would be impossible to imagine; four hundred pigs racing, squeal 
ing, and sliding about the decks, the saOors catching hold of them, 
tumbling down with them, rolling into the scuppers with them, 
while the sea broke over the steamer continuously, and every mo- 
ment brings her nearer to her end! 

In the account of the loss of the “ Pegasus ” there is a curious 


186 


A YOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


incident. An open boat was encountered. She was full to the 
gunwales, and in her was a man seated up to his breast in the 
water. He was found utterly insensible, with the death film upon 
his eyes, but, on being taken on board and warmed, he revived. 
The first words he uttered were, “ How are the fires?” The poor 
fellow had worked in the engine-room of tjie ” Pegasus.” 

These pauses of memory are among the wonders of human suffer- 
ing. Coincidences, too — and some of them very startling — may be 
found plentifully scattered among the marine records. In the 
wreck of the “Clarendon,” the second mate, named Harris, was 
swept overboard, and struggled to gain the land. A man named 
VV heeler, seeing the poor fellow battling among the breakers, rushed 
in and dragged him clear of the surf. “ In the features of the re- 
viving mariner,” says the account, “his deliverer recognized an 
old shipmate whose life he had saved four years before.” Another 
coincidence. A small West Indiaman was wrecked just off the Isle 
of Wight. Among the passengers were a Mrs. Shore, the wife of 
an army lieutenant, and several children. Mrs. Shore’s brother, 
Captain Smith, lived at Newport. He had recently lost his wife, 
and -was eagerly awaiting the arrival of his sister and nieces. A 
friend met him, and asked if he had heard the dreadful news from 
the back of the island. “No,” said he. “ What is it?” “An 
Indiaman has stranded.” Captain Smith, on hearing this, went to 
the Blackgang Chine, and saw the vessel. He had little need to 
make inquiries, for soon after his arrival his sister’s body was 
washed ashore, and those of his nieces soon followed.* 

In the wreck of the “ St. James ” there is an incident that rivals 
in pathos the most moving of those which Lord Byron selected as 
colors for his famous picture in “ Don Juan.” The pinnace was 
overcrowded. It was necessary that several persons should be 
thrown overboard. A man was seized, but his younger brother de- 
manded a moment’s delay. He said that his brother was. skillful in 
his calling, that his father and mother were very old, and his sisters 
not yet settled in life. He added that he could not be of such serv- 
ice to them as his brother, and therefore begged to die instead. The 
person in charge consented, and the lad was thrown into the sea. 
He was a fine swimmer, and for six hours he followed the boat, 

* The “Violet,” that was lost many years ago, while crossing from Ostend to 
Dover, supplies another instance. Her master was a native of Harwich, and his 
body was washed up close to that town. The conflicting character of the tides 
puts an element of mystery and superstition iuto this coming home of the poor 
drowned seaman. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


187 


struggling to regain her, sometimes on one side, sometimes on the 
other. The people kept him off with their swords. Eventually 
the young fellow snatched at a blade and held it in defiance of the 
W’ounds it caused, nor could the man who grasped it shake his hold 
off. His determination saved his life, for the others, affected by his 
resolution and courage, and by remembrance of the noble brotherly 
love that had brought him to this pass, agreed to take him into the 
boat. 

The behavior of seamen at a time when they have utterly aban- 
doned hope furnishes much that is curious to the literature of ship- 
wreck. In some cases you read of men turning into their Ham- 
mocks, and begging their shipmates to lash them up. Others strip 
themselves, and wait for the plunge. It has always been a peculi- 
arity of sailors in a large proportion of every ship’s company in a 
time when there are no more chances left, and when the end seems 
to have certainly arrived, to put on clean shirts and their best 
clothes. A seaman once told me that, being on board a vessel that 
was fast sinking, he jumped below into the forecastle, overhauled 
his chest, and put on nearly all the clothes which were in it. I re- 
member his telling me of three shirts, two waistcoats, two pairs of 
trousers, with much underclothing, all of which he wore. I asked 
him what his object was in burdening himself with all these clothes 
at such a time. “Well,” said he, “I’ve a taste for dying with 
plenty of clothes on, and consider it’s proper a man should go to his 
account with a clean shirt, and dressed in his best. If there had 
been time I should have shaved myself.” It is no doubt supersti- 
tion in the sailor that makes him eager to perish in his best things. 
He might desire, perhaps, that his body should present a respecta- 
ble appearance if picked up, but I also fancy that there is some sort 
of feeling in him that, since he is about to be called before his 
^laker, he ought to present himself in his most shipshape trim. 
Some such notions I know used to exist, but the mariner of to-day, 
if not too learned, is undoubtedly too prosaic for such rude, yet not 
unlovely fancies. 

Superstition in shipwreck has on many occasions been found a 
useful quality. The crew of an American ship, named the “ Her- 
cules,” were saved by the superstitions of the Lascars on board. 
The tempest raged, and the vessel was slowly filling. A Lascar 
came up to the captain with a handkerchief in his hand. “ What 
do you want?” said the captain. “This handkerchief,” replied 
the Lascar, “conlains some rice, and all the rupees I possess. If 
you will let me lash it aloft we shall all be saved. ” The captain 


188 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


consented, the Lascar sprung 'into the rigging, and secured the 
handkerchief to the masthead. Whereupon all the other Lascars 
were immediately transported with joy. They embraced their vir- 
tuous companion, we read, and then labored at the pumps with as 
much alacrity and perseverance as if they had encountered before 
neither apprehension nor fatigue. 

A noble example of the sort of pluck that enters into the compo- 
sition of our English sailors is related in the narrative of the loss of 
an East India Company’s ship in 1782. The vessel was sinking, all 
the boats but one were lost. This one boat eight men jumped into 
and rowed away with, leaving their shipmates to perish. The sailors 
who were left shouted to these fellows to return — not, they said, to 
carry ofl; any more of the crew, but simply to rescue two little chil- 
dren, who could add no Aveight to the boat. The seamen returned, 
took the infants, and again rowed away. Not a man on board the 
sinking ship made the least attempt to leap into the boat. Ten 
minutes after the vessel foundered, and every soul on board was 
drowned. It would be diflScult to find anything in naval story to 
surpass the beautiful heroism, the marvelous self-devotion of this 
act. It is an old tale, but to this day the heart throbs with a 
quicker beat to the thought of those seamen, handing the two little 
infants into the boat, while under their feet they feel the fabric set- 
tling deeper and deeper every moment and know that ere that boat 
has measured a mile they will be corpses. It is one more illustration 
of the merchant sailor’s spirit. 

It is a curiosity of shipwreck that Eliot Warburton, who wrote, 

‘ ‘ Since the days of steam navigation the Bay of Biscay is no longer 
formidable,” should have perished in that same bay by the burning 
of the “ Amazon.”* I have somewhere read that when this accom- 
plished man and delightful author was last seen he was observed 
Avith folded arms surveying, with an expression as of mild curiosity 
only, the dreadful scene of blazing hull and terrified people. How 

* AVhence comes the evil reputation of the Bay of Biscay? Much of it is 
OAvung, no doubt, to the old song, “ Loud roar’d the dreadful thunder,” etc. It 
is certain that wherever there be Avind at sea there Avill be billoAA’-s, and the seas 
of the bay are certainly not heavier than the seas in any other part of the storm- 
vexed deep; never in any case so fierce as the surges of the Horn or of the 
Southern Ocean. One reason of its ill-fame is, it is the first step, so to speak» 
in an ocean voyage from home, and the experiences, being often rude, are re- 
membered Avith the vividness of first impressions.^ Again, a great number of 
ill-built and overloaded and under-mamied vessels are constantly passing 
through the bay to the Mediterranean. Numbers founder in these Avaters, and 
the bay in the Wreck Chart is covei’ed Avith marks denoting casualties of many 
kinds. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


189 


persons will act in panic is illustrated in this wreck to a degree be- 
yond most other records. Think of a man and his wife with their 
arms entwined walking quietly to an open hatch and deliberately 
leaping into the body of tire in the hold. Modesty, too, is found so 
strained that a young lady, whose attire was partially burned off 
her, found death preferable in a burning ship to sitting imperfectly 
clad in a boat with a company of sailors and passengers. The story 
of tho “ Amazon ” supplies another coincidence. Her master was 
Captain Symonds, and some time after his vessel was burned, a 
piece of the wreck, much charred, with a string of a female’s cap 
attached to it, was washed up close to the house in which Symonds. 
was born. 

The ruling passion shows strongly in death by shipwreck. It is 
often beautiful, often exquisitely moving, often so humorous as to 
neutralize all horror, and to furnish little more than laughter to the 
tragedy. Take the case of the “ Montreal,” burned off Quebec. A 
mother had been thrown into the water with her children. AYith 
one hand she clung to a rope, with the other she kept the head of a 
child above water, and with her teeth fastened to its dress she sus- 
tained a second child. There were people screaming for help all 
around her, and boats were picking them up. This devoted mother 
could not scream, and she must have been drowned in a few mo- 
ments had not her situation been noticed. Another illustration of 
maternal love is found in the wreck of the ‘ ‘ Queen Victoria. ’ ’ There 
was a deck passenger named O’Brien, a discharged soldier. He 
saw a woman with a child in her arms, and offered to take the child 
that she might be free to help herself. He seized the baby and 
placed it on his shoulder. The mother’s love proved too strong. 
She looked on idly a moment, then passionately snatched the child 
back to her. O’Brien swam ashore, but the mother and child were 
drowned. 

When the “ London ” was sinking, one of the sailors was noticed 
upon his knees groping about in a foot depth of water. He was 
asked what he sought. He replied that, he had let fall a sovereign 
from his mouth. The person who told the story said : “ He was as 
cool and eager in looking for it as a street boy would be for a six- 
pence he had seen fall.” An old man was observed to strap up a 
railway rug. It was supposed he had concealed some hundreds of 
sovereigns in it. 

Another instance of ruling passion is an inversion. The passion 
is on the other side, and a very ugly picture it makes. I refer to 
the loss of the “ Prince George,” a man-of-war commanded by Ad- 


190 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


miral Broderick. She took fire and burned furiously. There were 
a number of merchant vessels in the neighborhood, but, as her 
guns were shotted, thej’’ refused to approach and help the sufferers. 
At last she blew up. The sea was covered with swimming and 
drowning men, and with a quantity of wreckage. There being no 
moi-e danger the merchantmen lowered their boats, but, instead of 
rescuing the drowning man-of-war’s men, they restricted their hu- 
manity to giving chase to the geese and ducks which had formed a 
portion of the live-stock of the “ Prince George,” and in picking up 
the chairs and tables, and whatever else floated near them. We might 
hope, in the interests of mercantile Jack, that these rascals were 
foreigners, who had been shipped into English forecastles. Yet 
shipwreck often shows that, whatever may be the color of the skin, 
the heart is the same that beats inside. There is a fine story of an 
Englishman and his wife leaving the ship in which they were mak- 
ing a voyage to pay a visit to the admiral. A negro servant on 
board the vessel they had temporarily quitted was in charge of their 
two children. A storm arose. The vessel, straining at her anchors, 
sprung a leak, and she settled fast. There were no boats; the ad- 
miral sent one from his ship. The crew, panic-stricken, jumped 
into her, and the negro, finding there was only room for him alone 
or Jhe two children, placed them in the boat, and went down a few 
moments afterward in the vessel. 

The curiosities of shipwreck are, indeed, abundant enough to fill 
many volumes. Good service might be rendered to literature, to 
humanity, and to the cause of the sailor by a collection of brief 
narratives having special reference to human behavior under all cir- 
cumstances of distress and of disaster at sea. There is, as I have 
said, a superabundance of incident, but the illustrations are scat- 
tered through hundreds of volumes. Bright and beautiful examples 
of the English spirit lie buried in old, forgotten narratives. Yet 
such a collection would well repay the labor it must demand. It 
might form the foundations, indeed, of a literature of the sea, such 
as this great maritime nation yet wants, for something more should 
go to the formation of marine letters than a dry if accurate history 
or two and novels in which verisimilitude is the last quality deemed 
essential. 


CHAPTER XX. 

TO IvrOSSEL BAY. 

The bit of coast that makes the foreground of Durban is, on the 
whole, the prettiest picture the South African shore submits. As 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


191 


you round the lighthouse standing white upon a bold height called 
“ The Bluff,” and drop anchor in the roadstead, you see a very 
great deal to please and detain the eye. Suppose your ship to bo 
lying with her head pointed toward the shore. Then you have on 
your left a high cliff, richly verdant with trees, the home, it is said, 
of innumerable monkeys. A fine lighthouse and signal station on 
top show bravely against the sky. At the foot of this bluff there 
runs out into the sea a line of rocks, over which the swell of the 
Indian Ocean rolls its snow, filling the air for a wide space with a 
luminous mist of spray. Yet here again, among the trees on the 
bluff, you see the now familiar tracts of pale yellow sand, and once 
more j^ou wonder that a soil which must necessarily be rendered 
poor by the admixture of sand in great quantities should yield veg- 
etation so abundant as you witness. Past the breakwater round to 
the right are fiats, embellished with a row of red sheds. On a line 
with a long skeleton pier which, I believe, is being demolished bit 
by bit, as the material of which it is constructed happens to be re- 
quired for other purposes, you see the masts and yards of ships ly- 
ing in the lagoon harbor, at the entrance of which is the bar, roar- 
ing, flashing, throwing up its clouds of boiling spume, after the 
manner of most of these South African obstructions. Then you 
notice a long, low, sandy foreshore, patched with vegetation and 
relieved by a few small houses. Behind this lies Durban, no dis- 
tinctive portion of which is visible from the anchorage saving the 
tower of the new Town Hall and a little cluster of roofs round 
about it. In the distance are the hills, dark with trees and bush, 
with here and there openings of a parched green appearance. Many 
houses stand upon these hills, and form a district called the Berea, 
the fashionable suburb, in wdiich are to be found the homes of the 
merchants of Durban. Some of these houses are stately, many, in- 
deed, elegant and beautiful; the roofs of them are of corrugated 
iron, the metallic glint of which, as they shine out from amid the 
vegetation in their own grounds, contrasts curiously with the dusky 
greenery, and furnishes a novel characteristic. The land then, 
trends away to the right in greens of several shades, but always 
clear and often vivid, and dies out in the far distance toward the 
waters of the Mozambique.* 

* There is a curious picture of Natal written by Captain Rogers, and pre- 
served in Dampier’s “Voyages” (1699, vol. ii.): “The country of Natal takes up 
about 3 d. and a half of Lat. from W. to S. It is bounded on the S. by a country 
inhabited by a small nation of savage people, called by our English Wild Bush- 
men; that Uve in caves and in holes of rocks, and have no other houses than 


192 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE, 


Natal is perhaps the most promising and certainly the most deter- 
mined colony in South Africa. The energy of its people is exhib- 
ited in the resolute manner in which the works of the port of Dur- 
ban have been dealt with. The story of the harbor works is not a 
little curious in its way, and is certainly instructive. The difficulty 
here is the difficulty that is encountered elsewhere on this coast, 
namely, a bar of sand that prohibits vessels above a certain tonnage 
from penetrating into secure waters and obtaining the conveniences 
of docks and quays. In 1870, as I gather, Sir John Coode proposed 
a plan for deepening this bar that was estimated to cost £204,000. 
A question arising as to the capability of the colony to bear this ex- 
pense, Sir John Coode recommended works which were to accom- 
plish the end in view at a cost of about £20,000. Six years later a 
new design was submitted by Sir John that was calculated at 
£448,000. The Harbor Board is of opinion that this 1877 design 
could not have been carried out for half a million of money; in- 
deed, it is alleged that, having regard to the heavy seas which the 
pier implied in Sir John Coode’s design would have to withstand, 
the expenditure would be absolutely beyond calculation. To relate 
all the schemes and to quote all the estimated costs in regard to the 
deepening of this bar would only fatigue the reader. The conflict 
now waged was succinctly explained to me by Mr. Harry Escombe, 
a gentleman of intrepidity and sagacity in his efforts to serve the 
colony in that particular undertaking, at all events, of the improve- 
ment of Durban harbor. 

“ The fight,” he said, “ as regards our harbor works is whether 
they are to go on under a local board and a clever engineer who is 
engaged by us, or under the Crown agents and eminent engineers 
wdio are on their staff. I am sorry to say that our experience of 
eminent engineers who reside at a distance is painful, and has 
proved most costly. ” 


such as are formed by Nature. * * At the mouth of the river is a bar which has 
not above 10 or 11 foot water on it in a spring-tide; though within there is water 
enough.* * Elephants are so plenty here that they feed together in great troops ; 
1000 or 1500 in a company.” Speaking of the dress of the natives, Rogers says: 
“ They have caps made of beef-tallow of about 9 or 10 inches high. They are a 
great while making these caps, for the tallow must be made vexy pui’e, before 
’tis fit for this use. Besides, they lay on but a little at a time and mix it firely 
among the hair, and so it never afterward comes off their heads.* * They have no 
money in this country, but give cows in exchange for wives; and thei'efore he 
is the richest man that has most daughtei’s or sisters; for to be sure he will get 
cattle enough. They make merry when they take their wives; but the bride 
cries all her wedding-day.” 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


193 


It certainly seems unfair to a colony that it should not be permit- 
ted to know its own interestss, and that it should .be forced into a 
heavy expenditure against the decisions of a concurrent judgment 
acquainted with local needs and local conditions to a degree hope- 
lessly beyond the reach of secretaries of state for the colonies at 
home, or of eminent engineers who base their projects upon brief 
excursions and superficial inspections. It is the general wish here 
that the works should proceed under local guidance, and it is diffi- 
cult to understand the meaning of the policy that opposes this de- 
sire. The resident engineer should be trusted. He is on the spot, 
sees everything that is happening, gains in a week more experience 
of the conditions to be fought against than could be obtained in a 
year by an engineer living at a distance and inspired by reports 
only, and is, furthermore, backed by the wishes of the colony. The 
sense of the obligation felt by the people of Natal to improve their 
harbor works, or at all events to persevere in their efforts after im- 
provement, is rendered very intelligible by the trade of the port and 
the promise which the statistics are full of. In 1884 the tonnage of 
steamers brought into the harbor amounted to 18,216, of sailing- 
vessels, 38,383. In 1885 the steam tonnage amounted to 20,285, 
and the sailing tonnage to 41,720. A return of the vessels arriving 
at Port Natal last year, including those remaining at outer anchor- 
age, gives an aggregate in register tonnage of 212,017, exclusive of 
men-of-war amounting to 12,703 tons besides. No visitor to Durban 
but must wish the efforts devoted to the deepening of the bar all 
success. 

There is constantly a movement in the roadstead, either a swell 
more or less heavy or the desperate surges of the southeast gale, 
and until passengers are able to cross the bar in the steamers which 
bring them off the port, and so land in comfort, they must be satis- 
fied to endure the primitive and distracting arrangement of the 
basket and the transfer of the little tender, People are now sent 
ashore in the following manner: A steam tender arrives alongside 
the ship; there is a large basket swung by the steam- winch; this 
basket is fitted with a door; a couple of persons step in and sit down, 
the door is closed, the signal is given, the steam-winch rattles, up 
goes the basket, and when over the side it is lowered on to the deck 
of the tender, and the occupants step out. The incessant rolling of 
the vessels forbids any other form of transhipment. But though 
there is not much danger in this basket business, the inconvenience 
of it is very great, and the terror inspired by it in nervous people 
quite alarming to witness. I saw a father and mother and three 


194 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


children squeeze in together into this basket. Our steamer was 
rolling heavily. At one moment the tender alongside looked as if 
she must be swung by the swell right on to our deck, while at the 
next moment we had rolled half our own length away from her„ 
and she appeared dark in shadow in the deep liquid hollow under 
our leaning bilge. The moment the basket was swung the children 
began to scream; the mother joined in the shrieking; while the fa- 
ther swelled the chorus by passionate notes of entreaty to the sail- 
ors to be quick. But dispatch was quite impossible. Opportunities 
had to be watched if this family of five, concealed within the poised 
basket, were not to be drowned or crushed; and for a long three 
minutes the screaming company of souls were kept dangling at the 
end of the derrick while the sailors watched for a chance to safely 
lower them. As good an opportunity as was worth waiting for 
came. “ Lower away handsomely!” was the cry. Plump dropped 
the basket to the deck of the tender upborne at this instant by the 
swell as if to meet it. The concussion must have been pretty vio- 
lent; the door of the basket flew open, and out tumbled the family 
like marbles from a bag. 

Even when the passengers are on board the tender, having safely 
passed the ugly and formidable ordeal of the basket, they may yet 
be said to have taken only the first step along the road of the diffi- 
culties presented here. As a rule, the bar is always boiling, always 
roaring, always raging; the tender must cross it; and, let her pick 
what particular passage she may, the rule is for her to be thrown on 
her beam-ends and to be smothered in foam to the height of her 
funnel. In consequence, passengers are usually sent into the cabin 
and battened down— a process they must either submit t(f or take 
their chance of being swept overboard. One may imagine the 
effect upon ladies of an imprisonment (without the remotest chance 
of escape in the event of capsizing) in the hold of a vessel of the 
size of a small smack, under water while washing across the bar, 
and reeling from side to side, with her funnel at moments almost 
horizontal! Small wonder if the people of Natal, a colony most 
conveniently accessible by sea, should discover a very considerable 
eagerness in their wish so to deepen the Durban bar as to enable 
the ocean steamers to moor in smooth water alongside their wharves 
and quays. 

The tender employed in these transhipments is named the ” Car- 
narvon,” and when she first approached I was struck by observing 
that she was furnished with two propellers, one right aft in the 
usual place, and one in the forefoot under the bows. The object of 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


195 


this double arrangement is to provide that one propeller shall al- 
ways be under water, for the swell is so heavy, the jumping on the 
bar so great, that the incessant skipping of the little steamer would 
render one propeller almost useless to her. A certain interest at- 
tached to this boat in my sight, through the circumstance of her 
having been brought out from England by Mr. H. 0. Reynell, the 
second mate of the mail steamer I was then on board of. I discov- 
ered this by accident. Standing at the rail, and observing the 
heavy weather made by the little steamer as she crossed the bar and 
approached us, I turned to the second mate, who was looking at 
her close beside me, and asked him if he could tell me her tonnage. 

“ Fifty-six,” he answered, smiling. 

” No bigger?” I exclaimed; ” are you sure of your figures?” 

” I ought to know,” he replied, ” seeing that I navigated her to 
this coast from Southampton.” 

“ It must have been a perilous journey,” said I; and it was im- 
possible not to think so when you considered the size of the little 
vessel and watched her jumping half her length out and rolling 
gunwale under upon the moderate movements of the water in this 
roadstead, and then reflected upon the sort of seas she might have 
had to encounter in the Bay of Biscay and oflC L ’Agulhas. Mr. 
Reynell told me that when he brought the steamer out of South- 
ampton she had a freeboard of eighteen inches, her crew consisted 
of a mate, three able seamen, three firemen, two engineers, and a 
man who acted as cook and stew^ard— eleven souls in all. The 
horse-power was twenty, the length over all ninety feet, and a beam 
thirteen feet. 

“ Our actual steaming time,” he said to me, ” from Southamp- 
ton to Cape Town was thirty-nine days twenty-three hours; the 
whole passage, including eight days’ detention, was forty-eight. I 
left Southampton on the 5th of September, 18»4, with fifty-six tons 
of coal on board in bags. The men were drunk when I started, 
which obliged me to bring up olf Hurst Castle. Next morning, on 
getting under way, 1 found that the vessel steered very badly— in- 
deed, she refused to answer her helm at all, and I was forced to 
keep the English coast close aboard in case of disaster. This trouble 
mended by and bye, and, after being bothered a bit by a fog which 
half decided me to endeavor to make the Eddystone again, I set 
course for Madeira. We had a hurricane that night, and our steer- 
ing-gear carried away; but I had rigged up a screw for protection 
agiiinst the weather and this happily kept her head on. The worst 
part here was the sea-sickness; most of the crew were almost help- 


196 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


less with it, and I tell you, I felt very queer myself. Indeed, I 
can’t imagine any kind of head or stomach capable of resisting the 
effects of the violently rapid rolling and tossing of the little vessel. 
Well, I will not weary you with particulars of the run, but one or 
two incidents may interest you. During the passage to St. Paul 
de Loando, a stretch of two thousand live hundred miles, the little 
vessel became so light through consumption of coal, that to obtain 
ballast 1 was obliged to save the ashes, wet them, stow them in bags, 
and lower them below. The compass was a very great dithculty; 
the card was continually flying about from one side to the other. 
After many experiments I lashed bags of rusty nails round it, and 
so contrived to keep it pretty steady. When, loaded to her disk, the 
after-hold ports of the vessel were entirely under water. From my 
bunk I looked right under the surface, and in Loando harbor it was 
like having an aquarium outside my port, as I could see many 
kinds of fish darting to and fro. Going down the coast I could 
conjecture my soundings after a fashion, by observing through the 
port the different changes in the color of the water. One day I was 
below working out observations when the engine suddenly stopped, 
then after a pause started off afresh with a rush. I jumped on deck, 
and was told by the mate that a huge sunfish had fouled the for- 
ward propeller. The monster lay on the surface astern. We went 
back to it with the idea of getting it on board, my notion being 
that we might be able to use a pait of it as fuel. The first attempt 
carried away my derrick and gear, and it was not until we rigged 
the cat-davit with the chain cable that we managed to heave the 
great mass up. It proved of no use to us whatever; all that it did 
was to the raise the biggest and worst smell I ever put my nose 
against. You may guess its size when I tell you that, on extract- 
ing one of the eyes and measuring it, I found it to be twenty-five 
inches in circumference. The whole fish weighed a ton, and we 
had to get rid of it by chopping it up and throwing it piecemeal 
overboard. On another occasion I was followed for some time by a 
shoal of huge black fish, like whales in appearance, and also in 
bulk, and in their spouting and blowing arrangements. I reckon 
the stench of the sunfish attracted them, for they hung steadily in 
my wake, sometimes ranging close alongside, and one or another 
jumping up like the head of a mountain uphove by some volcanic 
action, and falling back again with a thunderous splash. Their 
presence rendered me very uneasy, for I felt that if one of them 
should take it into his head to get under the vessel and attempt a 
somersault our capsizal would be a thing to be cocksure of. I had 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


197 


a rifle, and fired at the biggest and shot him. He leaped half his 
length out of water, bleeding profusely; then sounded and vanished, 
followed by the rest of them; and I was mighty glad to be rid of 
the shoal.” 

This was all Mr. Reynell had to tell me about the voyage; but look- 
ing, as I did w^hile he talked, at the little vessel rolling, wallowing, 
and smothering herself with foam as she approached us, I could not 
but feel that a very great deal of pluck must have gone to his reso- 
lution to bring such a little ship as that from England to South 
Africa, and take his chance, with nothing to depend upon but a 
couple of propellers, of the weather wdiich he might have to en- 
counter in a passage of six thousand miles. 

There is some merriment to be got out of the Kaffirs, Zulus, and 
other black men who work on the lighters which are towed to the 
ship either to bring or receive cargo. The heavy swell raises these 
large boats to the level of the bulwark-rail, then sinks them in the 
chasm under the ship; and the contortions, the cries, the grimac- 
ings, the wild leapings from side to side to escape the heavy swing- 
ing of the poised bales or packages form a sight to make one split 
one’s sides with laughter. The costumes of these negroes help the 
diversion. Some of them have nothing on but a snuff-box and a 
spoon and fork in one, which they carry in the lobe of their 
ears, thrust through a split that yawns like their mouth. Others, 
with perhaps a livelier perception of human requirements, will 
wu’ap a piece of sacking round their loins when they approach the 
ship; but it is only too manifest that any kind of clothing distresses 
these people. A lady told me that she had a Kaffir in her service 
and desired to make a footman of him; she bought a suit of clothes, 
and insisted upon his wearing them while he waited at table. No 
sooner, however, was his work for the day done than he would 
whip out of his trousers and coat, and rush with a savage shout of 
joy into the grounds. The centuries of African tradition are de- 
cidedly obnoxious to the interests of the tailors and the dress- mak- 
ers, and it is impossible to conjecture how many generations of 
black bishops and Ethiopian medical practitioners must come and 
gq before a native public sentiment in favor of small clothes shall be 
created, 

It was not a little disappointing to hear, while lying at Durban, 
that our ship during the homeward journey was to call at Mossel 
Bay to discharge two tons and a half of cargo, and receive a pas- 
senger, who proved to be an elderly German with a fixed smile and 
a prodigious appetite. I then thought and do still think it strange 


198 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


that the movements of a large mail steamer full of impatient people 
should be hindered by considerations so utterly trivial and so abso- 
lutely unremunerative. However, this undesirable deviation en- 
abled me to grasp to the full one of the most malignant of the many 
dangers which beset this very formidable coast — 1 mean fog. I 
have seen some thick weather in my time, but, out of London, 
nothing comparable to the dense, wall-like, vaporous smother that 
veiled the land as we approached Mossel Bay. One element of 
danger was, indeed, lacking — there was nothing to fear from col- 
lision, but though there is no reason to suppose that our careful, 
groping captain was not fully acquainted with his whereabouts, 
yet you may conceive our feelings when, on the fog lifting, we per- 
ceived breakers whitening the sea on the port bow, within a mile of 
us. So deceptive was the atmosphere rendered by the fog that, 
when the peaks of the mountains stole out and towered plain above 
the stratum of gleaming whiteness that hid the foreshore and the 
lower reaches, people who had steamed up and down the coast 
scores of times could not tell the names of the ranges, nor imagine 
off wliat part of the coast we were lying with silent engines. There 
is no worse peril than that of fog at sea. It is deadly enough in 
waters plentifully navigated, such as the English Channel or the 
Bay of Biscay; but it can never, under any circumstances, be more 
dangerous than when it comes down like the night itself upon a 
ship close in to a coast bitterly deceptive, even when the sun is high 
and the land a brilliant outline. The frequent stopping of the en- 
gines, the gradual sobering down of the seething noise alongside, 
the hush along the decks, broken only by whispers or questions 
asked in a low voice, or by the startling and sudden booming yell 
of the steam-horn, I am forced to confess put a strong element of 
fear into this part of our passage. 

Few objects are nobler than mountains of great altitude towering 
above a dense mass of vapor. They look to be twice their actual 
height, and the magnification seems to project their pinnacle into 
the very heart of the heavens. The giant peak of the Cradockberg, 
a height of five thousand feet, as I was told, was presently determin- 
able amid the looming of the vast range. Here and there up«i 
those distant brows lay a shining ray of sunlight, as of silver; and 
the power of the luminary presently making itself felt, the veil that 
hung in front of the coast toward which our head was pointed was 
rent, and, behold! Mossel Bay stood under our bows, with the 
houses slowly gleaming out to the filtering sunshine. ’Twas a 
strange picture to come upon, this revelation of seaboard and dwell- 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


199 


ing-place in a flaw of the fog that yet hung in rolls and wreaths 
upon the land, while bringing the horizon of the sea astern to with- 
in a couple of cable-lengths of us. 

It was a Sunday morning. We dropped anchor and blew several 
blasts upon the steam-horn, the echoes of which you heard leaping 
from crag to crag, and dying away in a dull, moaning sound over 
the land. The picture of this bay will always have a prettiness of 
its own, thanks to its wooded tracts of soil and to the quaint and 
nestling character of its habitations; but on this day the white coils 
and lines of vapor hanging about it added wonderfully to its char- 
acter of what I must call romantic forlornness. Upon our port 
beam the bluff of Cape St. Blaize, topped by a lighthouse, stood 
with dark outline upon the sea with a length of rock stretching 
from its point, covered with masses of foam, which filled the air as 
at Durban and as at Port Elizabeth, with the glistening rain of 
spray. The hillsides give one the idea of the coast being formed of 
rubble. The houses stand behind and above one another; they are 
long-roofed, and many of them one-storied, furnished with the 
stereotyped green veranda or stoep. The inevitable foreground of 
white sand has many growths of bush upon it. There is a. granite- 
like hardness in the aspect of the buildings that makes you think of 
Penzance. Groups of old cottages come down to the very water’s 
edge, and suggest a resemblance to the coastguards’ huts of Dun- 
geness and other low-lying shores. I can not express the effect 
j)roduced upon me by the profound sense of isolation this place in- 
spired. The ideas of loneliness suggested by Port Elizabeth and by 
East London are impressive enough; but, somehow, Mossel Bay 
seems removed out of all possibility of touch of civilization to a de- 
gree assuredly not indicated b}^ the appearance of the other towns. 
Yet again do I find myself wondering that human beings should 
have chosen such a spot as this for the erection of houses, and T am 
still more astonished to think that, houses having been built here, 
men and women can be found willing to live in them and settle 
down to the desolateness of it all. 

Having discharged our two tons and a half of cargo, and received 
a case or two of feathers and the German gentleman with the fixed 
smile, we hove up our anchor and steamed away down coast to 
Cape Town. The fog drew about us again; the mountain peaks 
melted into obscurity, and the steamer drove softly through sheer 
blankness with the lead going on either side, and the engines beat- 
ing as slowly as the heart of a dying man. Cape Barracouta, Cape 
Agulhas, Danger Point, Cape Hanglip, were invisible; but when 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


m 

approaching Tabic Bay the summit of the Cape of Good Hope em- 
erged, the fog broke up, though hanging, nevertheless, in com- 
pacted shapes leagues long all about the sky and land, sometimes 
descending to the surface of the water right under our bows, and 
forcing us to seek our whereabouts in the leviathan heights of the 
coast past the Cape of Good Hope to Table Mountain, At last, 
when fairly abreast of Camp’s Bay, the thickness vanished as if dis-. 
pelled by the wave of some magic wand, and you saw it standing 
like a wall upon the sea astern. Some light, fibrine lines of vapor 
with a sheen as of quicksilver upon them still clung to the brows of 
the mountains or sparkled like silver lace upon the hillsides; but 
the sun was over all, the waters of the bay were of a brilliant blue, 
the high combers upon the shore past Sea Point reared their green 
heights with curves of exquisite polish like the liquid rounding of 
the head of a cataract, and hid the rocks in acres of snow; a hun- 
dred stars flashed from the windows of the white houses ashore; in 
the far dista,nce stood the grand and lovely peaks of the Hottentot 
Hollands mountains; many Malay fishing-boats were running in 
from seaward, and their white canvas made the sapphire surface 
beautiful. It was a glorious picture, indeed! The more enchanting 
with its splendor of light, its magnificence of varied hue, its gran- 
deur of acclivity, its sweetness of distant prospect, for the melan- 
choly, damp, oppressive vapor that had closed out the light and life 
of the ocean from us since our departure from Mossel Bay. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

The departure from Cape Town of a mail steamer for England is 
evidently an incident of interest and excitement. I have noticed 
that whenever a demand is made upon the leisure of the people 
here the response is very unanimous and hearty. The truth is, 
“ Old Leisure,” whose extinction George Eliot deplores in “ Adam 
Bede, ” is not dead, as that authoress supposed; he has emigrated 
to South Africa, and settled in these colonies. There is always 
plenty o^ time in Cape Town, and you could find no better illustra- 
tion of this abundance than the sailing of a steamer with the mails 
for England, when all sorts of people leave all sorts of occupations 
to come down to the docks and fill the decks of the vessel. “ Twen- 
ty men,” said a well-known ship captain to me, ” will see one man 
off; and when they go ashore each of them draws twenty-six foot 
of water.” There is no better excuse for a drink, for a lounge, for 


A. VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


201 


an hour or two’s indulgence of the love of “ loafing ” which pre- 
vails as a passion might in the bosom of the South African, whether 
Dutch or Britisher— there is no better excuse, I say, for a carouse 
and a chorus than the seeing friends off. An example of this oc- 
curred at Port Elizabeth. Two boatloads of men, singing “ Rule 
Britannia,” ‘‘ Auld Lang Syne,” and the like, arrived alongside 
our ship, and in a few minutes flooded the saloon. Then might 
have been heard a continuous popping of champagne corks and 
loud cheers, alternating with hoarse choruses. All this uproar and 
drinking was designed to celebrate the departure of a single in- 
dividual; and I could not but think of the fable of the mountain 
and the mouse, when, after the crowd had gone away, most of 
them not a little. “ elevated,” and shrieking out “ Auld Lang Syne ” 
in transports of farewell, I asked what all this fuss was about, and 
ascertained that it related to the sailing of a very little man, about 
the size of a boy of twelve years old. 

An immense crowd congregated to witness the departure of the 
“ Spartan ” from Cape Town. Some time before we sailed two or 
three men were helped over the side, and vanished in the dust that 
the south easter was raising, on legs which worked like corkscrews 
under them. Among the mass of people on deck I observed a 
bishop, stalking here and there, habited in stockings and a white 
helmet. I was told he had spent five years among the blacks, scarce 
beholding a white man in all that time; and there was something 
moving in the childlike wonder of his stare as he gazed at an ex- 
hibition of life different indeed from the kraals, the beads, the 
assegais, the woolly heads, and unclad ebony forms he was accus- 
tomed to. I fell into conversation with him, and found him to be 
the bishop for Zululand. He told me he was going home to obtain 
means to establish schools of a higher character than that of those 
now existing, and also to get one or two able men to help in them. 

What sort of district is it that you inhabit?” said I. 

“ I am close to Isandhlwana Hill. There was no station there 
before the war. The only white man to be found for miles keeps a 
small country store, and lives alone.” 

“ Is your house wood or stone?” 

Stone. It is a strong house and includes a school-room. The 
church stands near, and is built of sandstone from Isandhlwana 
Hill. It is a memorial church, mainly subscribed for by the rela- 
tives and friends of the officers and men who fell in the war. As 
an example, all ranks of the 24th Regiment, which lost six hundred 
men, gave a day’s pay.” 




A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


“ It has been said to me,” I observed, “ that the best, perhaps 
the only hope of the colony lies in civilizing the native tribes, so as 
to render them trade constituents.” 

” I agree most fully,” answered the bishop; ” but if the civiliza- 
tion of the black is to help the colony our business should be to 
protect him from the vices of civilization.” 

“ What vices?” 

“ Drink, pre-eminently,” he answered. ‘‘You must forbid trade 
in drink. The Boers are establishing themselves in Zululand. 
They sell to the negroes a gin of vilest quality, imported from 
Delagoa Bay, and the Dutch do not intend to restrain the sale of it. 
One consequence of this traffic is to induce the natives, who are an 
abominably, lazy lot, and will not work, to labor so as to get money 
to buy gin.”’^ 

“I believe,” said I, ‘‘ your people wear very little dress.” 

‘‘ Very little, indeed,” rejoined the bishop. ‘‘A costume com- 
posed of a waist-belt, with fur tails and a square flap, a snuff box 
in a slit in the lobe of the ear, and a ring on top of the head, suffice 
to furnish out a complete Zulu dandy. A leather petticoat indi- 
cates the married woman, while maidenhood is. illustrated by a 
small patch of beads about three inches square.” 

“ I am told,” said I, ‘‘ that the Kaffirs and the Zulus are pretty 
honest people until they are civilized, when they immediately be- 
come thieves, liars, and drunkards.” 

“lam afraid there is truth in that,” said the worthy bishop, 
with a sigh. 

Yet here was this excellent person making the passage to Eng- 
land for no other purpose than to obtain funds for the promotion 
of civilization among a community who, he admitted, when civil- 
ized, degenerated from their raw, but moral condition, into rogues 
and blackguards! Nevertheless, it was touching to think of this cul- 
tured gentleman, and his amiable and devoted wife, hidden out of 
sight amid the desolation of an African plain, surrounded by sav- 
ages scarce removed in their habits from baboons. “ Oh, but I am 
well off,” exclaimed the bishop, when I spoke to this effect; “ there 
is a post twice a week; wdiereas I know a clergyman in charge of 
a mission that is one thousand miles distant from the nearest post- 
office.” 

Meanwhile the steamer remains fast alongside the wharf. Her 

* But if they will work for gin, might not they be by and by induced to work 
for things less injurious, and so be sloped gradually into habits of decent and 
useful industry? 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


203 


decks swarm with people; and the quay is densely crowded. Here 
you see a couple of judges absorbed in eager conversation; there 
you watch the animated countenances and lively movements of men 
who are pointed out to you as a prime minister, an attorney-general, 
a crown commissioner, a colonial secretary. There were some 
moving scenes ere our warps were let go, and the bell sounded in 
the engine-room. One man, who was taking leave of his wife, 
again and again ran up the ladder to give her a final kiss and to 
utter a last farewell. When he came on board for the sixth or 
seventh time she disappeared, and an old quartermaster, thrusting 
his tongue in his cheek, exclaimed to me, in a hoarse whisper, 
“ She’s growed sick of it, and’s gone down in the fore-saloon along 
with another gent.” The clinging of a mother to her daughter was 
an incident full of pathos, the fuller, indeed, for the expression of 
impassioned grief in each countenance, and for the silence between 
them, broken only by sobs they could not suppress. The quay, as 
we slowly forged ahead, was a sight to remember, filled with people 
waving hats and handkerchiefs, some with their faces buried in their 
hands and some with their backs to us, as though they could not 
bear to watch the ship’s going. It was a sign of the popularity of 
many of the passengers sailing for England, and I frankly admit it 
affected me not a little to think that the English hearts in the greater 
proportion of that crowd yearned for the old country to which our 
head was presently to be pointed, and watched our receding ship 
with eyes as wistful as those of exiles. In a few minutes the many 
seaward-looking faces on the quay grew dim, the hues of the ladies’ 
apparel became wan, the grouped foreground merged into the gray 
and green tints of the land beyond, the white houses stole out with 
scintillating windows. Table Mountain seemed to uprear itself like 
a giant stiffening his mighty figure, and when that vast presence 
made itself felt by our withdrawal to a distance when the fullness 
of the majestic mass could be grasped, all things took a dwarfish 
character — Cape Town became a lilliputian, the houses at Sea Point 
looked habitations just big enough for elves only, and thus the pict- 
ure passed away, minute, ivory-like, full of the starry sparkling of 
windows catching the glorious radiance and of the fitful flashes of 
signal hand-glasses.* 

As we steamed out of Table Bay a really extraordinary story of 
somnambulism was related to me. A mail steamer, commanded by 
Captain Wait, the master of the ship in which I was now proceed- 

♦ It is a custom here to flash farewells to friends on board ships leaving 
the bay. 


204 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


ing home, arrived at dusk off Cape Town, and dropped anchor till 
daylight should enable her to enter the docks. During the evening 
some of the passengers fell to talking about somnambulism and the 
tricks of sleep-walkerS; A gentleman who was present looked very 
uneasy and distressed, and, after a little, entreated that the subject 
might be changed, as he was in the habit himself of walking in 
his sleep. At half past three o’clock in the morning a light draught 
of air blew over the water from the north. The fourth mate had 
charge of the watch, and was walking to the bow of the steamer to 
see if all was right there with the cable, when a quartermaster ap- 
proached him and said he could hear some one crying for help, out 
in the darkness. They strained their ears, and, after a little, dis- 
tinctly heard a cry coming feebly across the water. Captain Wait 
was aroused, and ordered the gig to be manned, under the com- 
mand of the second mate. At the distance of about four hundred 
yards from the stern of the steamer the boat came across a man 
floating, but barely conscious. When dragged over the side he fell 
senseless in the bottom of the gig. He w^as attended by the doctor, 
and by Captain Wait, and regained consciousness in about an hour 
and a half. He said he could not imagine how he had fallen into 
the water; he supposed that he must have been affected by the con- 
versation during the evening, arose in his sleep, and walked over- 
board. The shock of the immersion awoke him, and somehow, 
though in darkness and in the water, he contrived to find out that 
he was dressed in his overcoat, coat, waistcoat, undervest, trousers, 
and shoes. ‘ ‘ The strangest part of the yarn, ’ ’ said my informant, 
“is, that the man could not swim a stroke', and yet he suceeded 
while in the water in pulling off his topcoat, waistcoat, and trou- 
sers, so that when picked up he had nothing on but his undervest 
and shoes. The general opinion was that he must have been in the 
water at least half an hour before he was rescued, for there was no 
current, and as he could not swim, and as he apparently lay motion- 
less all the while on his back, he could not possibly have drifted in 
less time to the spot where he was found. He had two hundred 
and twenty-eight pounds in his coat pocket, and this he lost, with 
the clothes out of which he had so mysteriously managed to crawl 
while lying in the water.” 

It does not take long for people to settle down to the routine of 
shipboard. The weather is nearly always fine and delightful dur- 
ing the run from Cape Town to Madeira, and as often as not quiet 
and agreeable from Madeira to England. After leaving the Cape 
you swing rapidly into the blue and joyous south-east Trades, and 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


205 


sway to the cradling heave of the sapphire billow gracefully fling- 
ing its sparkling snow at the ship as it chases her from the cool 
south.* There is sure to be sea-sickness at the first start, many 
empty chairs at the tables, glimpses of hollow faces and com- 
pressed lips flitting phantom-like from the cabin to the deck and 
from the deck to the cabin. The lady who has brought twenty or 
thirty dresses with her is still abed; she has no thoughts about an}^- 
thing being too narrow in the back and too loose in the waist, and 
the rouge-pot lies untouched in her trunk. The girl whose gay 
laugh while in dock you heard ringing from one end of the ship to 
the other lies prostrate on a bench with blanched cheeks and closed 
eyelids, illustrating the utter indifference of nausea to all material 
things by the reckless crushing of her hat upon the iron arm of the 
seat along which she stretches her figure. The gentleman in the 
nautical clothes and yachting cap finds no relish in tobacco, and 
likes brandy and water better than soup. Here and there you see 
one or two people aggressively hearty and impertinently well. But 
four or five days pass before the tables are filled, and even then the 
rumor spreads of a lady keeping her cabin somewhere forward, and 
of a gentleman requiring his meals to be taken to him to his berth 
over the propeller. 

What movement there is, is of a pitching rather than of a rolling 
nature, and hence there is some little justification for sickness in 
people who, when they have recovered, talk with pomposity of the 
number of times they have crossed the equator. When eventually 
all the passengers emerged, so that a bird’s-eye view could be taken 
of them as they sat about the quarter-deck, I was not a little struck 
by the costumes and jewelry of the ladies. Diamonds flashed on 
every finger, in every ear, on every neck — Cape diamonds, indeed, 
but they sparkled all the same, compelling the attention here and 
there to hands which would have been prettier had they been 
gloved, and to necks with an African glow upon them that ren- 

* I find a lively contrast between the old and the new in a description by Sir 
Arthur Brooke Faulkner, written in 1832: “ Whenever,” says he, “I wish to be 
happy in the most untoward conjuncture of this world’s accidents, I think of 
the “ Caldicott” and her dead-lights, without a chair to sit down upon, and the 
parboiled hen served up heels in the air, half-plucked, for dinner by the dirty 
cabin boy; and these the only comforts to keep off famine and beguile the 
scene of boiling sea and storm that raged about her. On this awful hurri* 
cane night the topmast was carried away, and for consolation the sea-washed 
master, heaping shame and curses on the heads of the owners for sending out 
such a vessel, exhibited fragments of the mast to show it was as rotten as snuff: 
the inference from which was that the ship was snuff too.” 


206 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


dered the powder-puff a transparent device. There must be some 
smart dressmakers in the colony — unless, indeed, the ladies import 
their clothes from Europe. I never saw apparel better cut, fits 
more choice and tasteful than among the colonial ladies on board 
our steamer. Some suggestion of opulence should lie in all this 
glitter of diamonds and in all this variety and finish of attire; and 
nothing but malice could dictate the assertion that it is the custom 
of many of the fine ladies of Cape Town, Kimberley, and other 
places, to wear two thirds of what their husbands own upon their 
fingers and backs * 

You would conclude that a democratic spirit prevails among a 
community wiio have had to labor at ah sorts of trades, who have 
•undertaken work in all sorts of directions to get money, who have 
been or who are diamond-brokers, keepers of hotels and of canteens, 
store-keepers, or, in other words, shop-keepers dealing in every 
possible article of merchandise, contractors, mining engineers, over- 
seers, diggers, ostrich farmers, pawnbrokers, “smouzers,” or 
watch-hawkers, cab-drivei-s, transport- riders, detectives, railway 
porters, who rank as civil servants, and so on, and so on. In such 
a community you would not expect to find people critical of ante- 
cedents, because the man who is driving a cab to-day might be 
found to have held a very fiourishing position in some old edition 
of the “ Landed Gentry,” wdiile the merchant who figures in the 
Legislative Assembly, who may be a member of the Ministry, who 
owns two or three houses, and whose person is ablaze with diamond 
studs and diamond rings, may have begun his colonial life as a 
waiter not more unwilling even then than now to talk about his re- 
lations. If a ship be as man is — a microcosm, the truth should be 
found in her though it be but a miniature verity; and certainly what 
I noticed in the airs and behavior of the colonials on board the 
“Spartan” led me to conclude that the lines of the social grada- 
tions are more sharply defined and more peremptorily insisted upon 
in South Africa than they are in Great Britain. 

As an instance : a few days after we left Cape Town the captain 
proposed a dance; lamps of various colors were hung along under 
the awnings; the openings between the stanchions upon the rail 
■were draped with signal-flags, and a few further embellishments 
transformed the white and spacious quarter deck of the steamer 
into a very elegant ball-room. The sight was extremely pretty; the 
red and green and white of the lamp-light flashed up the brass- 

* Yet this should be credited, if for no other reason than to suppress these ex- 
aggerated and vulgar exhibitions of jewelry. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


207 


work, and twinkled in starry gems in tlie glass of the skylights. A 
curiously nautical detail was furnished by a quartermaster, in flow- 
ing trousers and with a cap on nine hairs, unconsciously standing 
at the large double wheel, with his hands upon the spokes, watch- 
ing the dancing. There was a young moon up in the dusk, and as 
the steamer slowly swayed you saw the luminary sweep, like a sil- 
ver sickle, past the interstices among the flags and the awnings. 
The ocean was black, glassy, and tremulous with starflakes, while 
the wake of the moon, of an ice-like hue, ran with serpentine mo- 
tion upon Hie undulations of the sea from the horizon to our ship. 
It was the very night for a dance; but the result was a half-hearted 
business, mere flatness and failure indeed. The ladies objected to 
the partners suggested to them; one man, they said, kept a store at 
Cape Town; another kept a canteen at Kimberley; a third had 
started a railway refreshment-room; a fourth was a magistrate’s 
clerk somewhere up countr}^ Only three or four persons were 
considered good enough for the ladies to stand up with, and the 
consequence was you had a knot of disgusted and disaffected men 
smoking in a recess under the hurricane-deck, grumbling and com- 
plaining among themselves, while they watched with sarcastic sneers 
the capering and twirling and sliding about of the few couples who 
had sole possession of the quarter-deck. 

I do not know that I should have mentionedt his ludicrously trivial 
subject were it not for the excuse it gives me to say a -word or two 
upon a condition or feature of the vocation of the shipmaster which 
I have not yet touched upon, and which 1 believe has never yet 
been dealt with. The point occurs to me particularly in reference 
to my recollection of the trouble that Captain Travers of the 
“ Tartar ” took to amuse his passengers. He had but a magic lan- 
tern, yet in order to provide us with that simple entertainment he 
had to bury himself in a quiet part of the ship with the thermom- 
eter standing at about ninety degrees in the shade, and there, aided 
by the surgeon, to rehearse the slides, get the written story that the 
magic-lantern was to illustrate by heart, study the effects to be pro- 
duced, rig his little hurdy-gurdy organ, and give himself generally 
as much trouble over a business designed wholly for the entertain- 
ment of the passengers as a theatrical manager w'ould devote to the 
production of a pantomime. It was then, while watching my friend’s 
labors, and thinking of the weight of cares which lay upon his shoul- 
ders besides, that the question occurred to me: is the captain of a 
large passenger steamer well advised in accepting as an obligatiotT^ 
the task of entertaining his passengers by the stereotyped though 


208 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


only available methods which can be employed at sea? Is it not the 
true policy of a captain to be with his passengers, but not of them; 
to readily acquiesce in any reasonable projwsals which may be 
made to him, but not to be the first to suggest? My own opinion 
is that if a captain undertakes to amuse the people committed to his 
trust he runs certain risks which no wise man would very willingly 
challenge. For instance, he may involuntarily become one of a 
clique. Let us say that he proposes a dramatic representation; he 
will take a part in it himself and others enter into the arrangement. 
These people may or may not be popular on board but in any case 
he is much thrown with them. He has to rehearse, he has to dis- 
cuss, he is forced by the demands made upon his leisure to neglect 
others, who the more grumblingly resent his withdrawal in proper 
tion as he surrenders himself to his own “ set.” In all probability 
many hard things will be said. Fault is found in directions which 
would have been deemed faultless enough but for the irritation. 
The voyage is declared to be the dullest ever made; the ship the 
worst roller ever launched; and while the captain is slaving at re- 
hearsals, in the hope of furnishing a pleasant evening to all hands, 
men with long faces ahd women with sour faces are wandering 
about the ship saying that they are neglected; that, in their opin- 
ion, the vessel is not properly watched, and possibly, therefore, not 
safely navigated, and that they will never sail again in her. 

This is a purely hypothetical case; but I believe no traveler of 
experience will deny the possibility of it. Directors and owners 
should settle these matters so as to remove the responsibility of 
dealing with them from the shoulders of their captains. Nothing 
can be more intelligible than the desire of a master to popularize 
his ship; but whether her popularity is to be obtained by her com- 
mander forcing a sort of obligation on his passengers to be jolly I 
must beg leave to doubt. The sea is so full of perils, a ship re- 
quires such incessant and indefatigable watching, there are such 
scores of essential points in the internal economy of her to attend 
to, that the more thoughtful a passenger is the better pleased he 
will be to find the captain’s time dedicated wholly to his most im- 
portant and onerous duties. No master, either in the interests of 
his ship or of his own reputation, can afford to belong to a clique 
of his passengers, and yet it is almost impossible for a captain to 
take the initiative in the diversions of a voyage without becoming 
the center of a clique. The shipmaster’s safest attitude must be 
one of cordial reserve. He must do nothing likely to suggest to 
passengers that he is capable of, or actually making distinctions be- 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


209 


tween persons. The lady ought not to fare better at his hands than 
the vulgar woman, the rich man not better than one whose attire 
or talk may suggest a slender purse. The captain should take a 
position which may enable all to rally about him as a center, favor- 
ing not one more than another, and distributing his courtesies with 
impartial judgment. Experience may be against me in these views; 
the majority of the passengers may like to be amused and look to 
the captain to inspire and to help them. Yet a shipmaster jealous of 
his own dignity and wisely studious of his own interests will not 
voluntarily incur more obligations than his profession imposes upon 
him; and if I were captain of a ship then, unless the persons who 
employed me specially required me to supplement my vocational 
knowledge by promoting and assisting in dances, theatricals, and 
the like, I should consider my duty toward the passengers suf- 
ficiently discharged by rendering their programmes such assistance 
as the vessel could yield, meanwhile holding aloof myself, and so 
rescuing my professional life from the risks w^hich a man must run 
who undertakes offices from which a tactician might recoil, and 
places the serious side of his work as a commander at the mercy of 
every jealous and irritable person on board his ship. 

But this by the way. Meanwhile the steamer, with her bow 
making a straight course for St. Helena, is sweeping with the swift, 
floating, rushing motion you notice in the albatross over the swell 
that lifts in dark- blue folds to her quarter, and underruns her at a 
speed equal to twice her own velocity. The breeze comes up in a 
soft gushing; head to wind we should be making half a gale of it, 
but the nimble heels of the “ Spartan.” take all weight out of the 
blowing wind, and the breeze that is strong enough to swing the 
heads off the seas, and to fling the spray of innumerable billows 
sunward for the glory of the rainbows which they catch, comes over 
our flying taffrail in a wafting as soft as the draught from a lady’s 
fan. You could lean an hour over the stern without wearying of 
the kaleidoscopic splendor of the wake that rushes away from under 
you; it is marbled by the foam beneath the water; the intense blue 
of the clear patches is deepened yet by the boiling white of the froth 
and by swirling masses of yellow bubble, and by the glass-like glit- 
tering of myriads of foam-bells. The shadows sway like pendu- 
lums upon the deck; the sunlight flashes in a blinding dazzle out 
of the iron side of the steamer as she rolls her wet, black plates 
toward the luminary; a thin vein of bluish smoke breaks from the 
waving funnel and blows over the port bow low down on the sea 
there. The trade-clouds fly in single bodies, and they are all of a 


^10 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


delicate orange tint, as though they were illumined by some orb 
with a deeper African mellowness of glory than yonder sun has that 
at noon shines almost directly overhead. 

Yet this peculiar brilliance and tender beauty of orange which 
the flying clouds now possess you will sometimes see in a sunset 
even in latitudes beyond the polar verge of the tropics. I remember 
watching the sun sinking when we were some days yet from St. 
Helena. The western sky was cloudless, and the luminary, shorn 
of his rays, sunk like a ball of Are, with an outline exquisitely de- 
flned. He was the palest amber at first, with a reflection upon the 
water coming down to the ship in sheets of glory broken by the 
heavings; but as his lower limb closed the horizon the disk rapidly 
passed to yellow, darkening into richest scarlet, that flung a blood- 
like luster over the whole face of the sky that way, full of Aery 
menace. The suggestion of incandescence was a kind of oppression 
to the fancy, and you could see by the startled and earnest looks 
directed at that sunset that more than one mind was sensible of an 
element of fear in the sublimity of the spectacle. The blood-like 
luster gave a lining as of molten ruby ore to the white waters 
breaking away from the stem of our ship. It veined all bright 
things that reflected light with lines of fire, and the decks of the 
steamer sparkled out in whole constellations of crimson stars to the 
burning of that marvelous scarlet circle. 

Indeed, there are a hundred things to admire and for memory to 
linger over with fondness, and often with adoration, in a voyage 
up and down the azure seas which wash the long stretch of African 
coast you pass on your road from England to the Cape and home 
again. Sometimes a single simple picture would impress recollec- 
tion to a degree beyond even the power of stirring spectacles of 
grandeur and magnificence. Thus, when I close my eyes there 
rises before me a slate-colored sea, in the midst of which we are 
sailing, while the horizon around is of an ocean blue, merging into 
a dainty greenness of sky. We are steaming under the shadow of 
a heavy cloud which is sweeping along overhead, a very little faster 
than we are moving. It is a kind of eclipse in its way, but we are 
circled with a rim of the glory of the day that is beyond the cloud. 
Slowly this mountainous body of dark vapor settles away ahead, 
and, as the confines of its shadow astern draw up to us, so you see 
the laughing glittering of the sea stealing toward us, too, until the 
sparkling azure infolds us again, and our black sides are caressed 
by arching heads of snow, while not twenty fathoms beyond our 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


211 


bow lies the slowly withdrawing darkness, like the shadow of night 
itself passing away. 

“ Sail, oh!'’ sings out some hearty voice, and down bn the star- 
board bow you catch sight of a dingy, square shape, which, on ex- 
amining it through a telescope, you find to be the topsails and top- 
gallant -sails of a large ship, running, with her royal yards on deck. 
She is probably traveling at six knots an hour, while we are steam- 
ing thirteen. Presently the cloud shadow passes beyond her, and 
the superb configuration of canvas leaps out of the duskiness into 
moonlike whiteness. She is a fine vessel, homeward bound from 
Calcutta, pushing through it with a majesty of slow and solemn 
heaving such as must make the quick pitching of our steamer a 
decidedly clownish performance. As we approach her we fore- 
shorten her canvas, and when abeam her yards come into one with 
her masts, and as she shows no stay-sails but one she looks like a 
big ship at anchor out there. A few strokes of our propeller dispel 
the illusion; her weather yard-arms steal out, and as she passes 
away upon our quarter she gleams bland and full again in all the 
beauty of a crowd of sails cut to a hair, with a hearkening, seeking 
look in the lustrous rounds of her white cloths, while her slow pitch- 
ing makes her seem to be dropping endless courtesies to us. 

But the sun has been “shot,” the run marked up, our position 
shown upon the chart, and the captain, coming among us, says 
that he hopes to be at anchor oif St. Helena at midnight. 


CHAPTER XXH. 

‘it acted like a charm.” 

We were in the smoking-room talking about the hardships of the 
mariner’s calling. The subject had been brought about by some- 
body referring to the experiences of the master and mates of the 
ship — four of them out of the five having been shipwrecked; the 
master twice, in the vessel he commanded, and in the steamer that 
subsequently picked him up; and the first, third, and fourth mates 
once apiece. A colonial merchant, putting down his pipe, said that 
the topic recalled to his mind a little incident which he would relate 
to us if we cared to hear it. He started thus: 

“ I w'as sitting at a table in the smoking-room of a London hotel, 
when two persons approached and seated themselves opposite me. 
One was a portly, red faced, beaming old gentleman, with several 
chins, and a perfect Atlantic Ocean of black satin waistcoat, gleam- 


212 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


ing and rippling over proportions as abundant as the amplest that 
ever excited the witty admiration of Sydney Smith. It was years 
since 1 had met a man in a satin waistcoat. His companion was a 
young fellow about seventeen years old; his face was dark with ex- 
posure to weather. He was dressed coarsely in rough sea clothes. 
I noticed a silver ring on the third finger of his left hand; while the 
hands themselves, though small, bore signs of rough, tough work 
in their darkened palms, square finger-tips, and bronzed knuckles. 

“ ‘ D’3^e think you can manage a small glass of whisky, William?’ 
said the old fellow, with a provincial accent; and gazing upon the 
youth with an immense smile so exceedingly good-humored that it 
was impossible not to grin in s^^mpathy. 

“ ‘ I’ll tr3% father,’ answered the lad, with a manner that seemed 
sullen at first, till I began to think there was some shamefacedness 
in it. 

“ A waiter was called, glasses ordered, and the old gentleman 
lighted a cigar while the lad filled a pipe. For some minutes we 
sat in silence, the youth smoking with his eyes fixed on the floor, 
the old gentleman puffing at his cigar with many a rolling glance of 
his dark, humorous eyes round the room, occasionally bringing his 
gaze to me as though courting me to address him, with an expres- 
sion of merriment in his looks that threatened explosions of laughter 
should the slightest excuse offer. 

“ ‘ This j^oung gentleman,’ said I, ‘ seems fresh from a warmer 
sun than that which shines over London.’ 

“ ‘ He’s just home from the West Indies,’ said the old gentleman, 
with a chuckle in his lower notes like the gurgling noise made in a 
bottle when its contents are poured out. ‘ He’s been to sea, sir, as 
a sailor — as a sailor, sir, and he don’t like it!’ Here the old fel- 
low’s suppressed mirth heaved his waistcoat into a rolling swell, 
upon which his massive watch-chain swayed as if it had been the 
cable of a ship, coming and going in the hollows of a seaway. 

“ ‘ You found the life hard, I dare say?’ said I, turning to the 
lad. 

■‘‘Brutally hard, sir,’ he answered quietly. “There’s not a 
mongrel cur smelling about the heels of a crowd on a pavement 
that, as a matter of humanity, I’d send to sea.’ 

Ha! ha! ha!’ roared the old gentleman uproariously. ‘ It does 
me good to hear him; I assure you it does, sir,’ said he, wiping his 
eyes. ‘ If you only knew the struggle we had, the argumjjnts, the 
entreaties we used! AVhy, sir, his mother almost went upon her 


A YOTAGE TO THE CAPE. 


213 


knees to him. But what I say is, every one must carry his own 
candle in this world to find his way along. There’s no use in try- 
ing to pick a road by the light of another man’s flame. The only 
way to persuade a fellow against his will is to force him to make a 
fool of himself. This youngster insisted upon going to sea. A few 
weeks of reality have prevailed upon him, when all the talk of all 
the most ancient mariners in this kingdom, reasoning with him for 
ten years, would only have ended in strengthening his resolution, 
and perhaps tempting him to run away. It was my idea,’ he con- 
tinued. with his irrepressible smile, and in a voice positively oily 
with self-complacency; ‘ 1 hit it. The cure’s mine. Isn’t it, 
William?’ 

“ The lad smiled, but a certain shamefacedness was in all he did 
and said. I could see how it was, and felt for him. The old ideal- 
ism had been remorselessly broken to pieces, the gay dreams glit- 
tering and prismatic with the light of the young imagination had 
passed, the vision was dissolved, nothing lingered but remembrance 
of hardship, cruelty, and the flavor of abominable food. Perhaps 
the stout and smiling old gentleman read the passing emotion of 
sympathy in my glance, or it might be that he was of a communi- 
cative disposition. He took a drink, and said : 

“ ‘ As I never had tbe least passion for the sea myself, as I sufl;er 
from a sensation of nausea even if I think of going on board a ship, 
and as I am dreadfully seasick when I mn on board, whether the 
wayes roll, or whether the sea is calm, it’s not surprising that I am 
unable to understand what boys should find in the ocean to tempt 
them to go to it. This lad was mad to be a sailor. Sir, he even 
learned to chew tobacco, to his mother’s horror, in anticipation of 
the time when he should be a jolly tar. He read nothing but sea 
stories, and made himself very objectionable to his school-masters in 
imitation of some of the young heroes of the books he devoured. 
He imitated the gait of the mariner, and swung from side to side as 
he walked. He picked up nautical words from his reading, which, 
as I was informed by a naval captain, a friend of mine, he misap- 
plied, though it was all the same to my wife’s and my ears; for 
what, sir, were we to know of sheets and stays, of braces and bon- 
nets, of guys and gammoning, and such jargon, only so far as they 
related to the things the terms express to us who live ashore? How 
he got his knowledge of ships and rigging and boats I’m sure I 
can’t guess. I don’t think he could tell himself.’ 

“ The youth smiled and the old gentleman burst into a laugh. 

“ ‘ Well,’ continued the old fellow, ‘ he was mad to go to sea. 


214 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


His mollier entreated him almost on her bended knees to dismiss 
such a wild, boyish fancy. Didn't she, William?’ 

“ The lad said ‘ Yes,’ in a subdued voice. 

“ ‘ I reasoned with him, too, and got several of my friends to 
argue. I’m a pretty well-to do man myself, and though not rich 
enough to allow my boys to grow up in idleness, I have the means, 
I hope, to see ’em safely into snug, improving business. Why, 
then, did William want to go to sea, when he could count upon a 
liberal education and a kind father’s hand and purse to help him 
into something good hereafter? Not to mention a mother’s love to 
watch over him while he was under our roof.’ 

“ Here the old fellow tried to look sentimentally at William; but 
an air of gravity was beyond his reach. He smiled till he laughed 
out, then took another drink and proceeded, while his son, gather- 
ing courage, stole a glance at me, to see, perhaps, what I thought of 
his father’s open talk. 

“ ‘ Finding the lad obstinate and determined I turned his desire 
over in my mind, and thought it might be worth my while to look 
seriously into the question of the sailor’s life as a profession. For, 
thought I, it’s a hard calling, no doubt; but then vast numbers of 
lads go to it. There must be prizes, and when a youth shows a 
strong liking for any particular profession he should not be balked? 
It’s true he can’t become a Nelson in the merchant service, and he’s 
too old for the navy, but he might become a Captain Cook, or end 
in owning ships. Well, my naval friend knew a shipowmer^in 
London, and advised me^ without saying anything to my son, to go 
up and have a talk with him. I did so. He was perfectly candid, 
and no information I ever received more surprised me. He said 
that the sea was the very last calling he should advise any man to 
put his son to. In the forecastle English sailors were no longer 
wanted, the foreigner was taken instead, because he was willing to 
work for little money and on such food as would set English crews 
mutinying. As to officers and captains, he said their number was 
so out of proportion to the demand for them that men of skill and 
experience were half starving in all directions for the want of em- 
ployment. He said the time was fast approaching when no man 
would be able to obtain command of a ship unless he was prepared 
to invest a sum of money which would always be considerable to 
one who was poor; which sum, he added, was almost certain to be 
lost through the bankruptcy or the fraudulent behavior of those 
who received it. He assured me that he could see no prospect at 
all for a youth at sea. He said, people talk to you of a lad rising 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


215 


to the command of a fine ocean passenger ship; but, said he, pray 
consider liow very few such ships there are in comparison with the 
mass of men who would be glad to command them, and so conceive 
how small are the chances a lad stands of ever reaching to such a 
position. And even when reached, what does it amount to? An 
income out of which but little can be saved, even if a man should 
have the luck to retain his berth for many years, with the risk of 
dismissal and the forfeiture of all professional opportunities through 
an error of judgment that may bring the ship into jeopardy. In 
fact,’ said the old gentleman, smiling broadly, ‘ this shipowner was 
so candid with me that I returned home with even a meaner opinion 
of the merchant service as a profession than I had before enter- 
tained. Well, as AVilliam here will tell you, I put all that the ship- 
owner had told me before him, and reasoned with him on the infor- 
mation I had obtained, but to no purpose. He declared that he 
didn’t believe a word the shipowner had said, that he had made up 
his mind to go to sea, that it was the only calliug in the world fit 
for a man to follow, and that sooner than be hindered he would run 
away from home. What was to be done? If the boy ran aw^ay 
we might hear no more of him, or he might fall into evil ways, be 
ruined for life, and prove a degradation to us. I said to my friend, 
the retired naval officer, “ William intends to have his way, and he 
must be humored, as we can’t keep him locked up in his bedroom, 
you know, day and night. I’ve a mind to send him for one voyage 
— a voyage that should cover three or four months. He’ll see for 
himself what the life is, and there’ll be time enough to give the gilt 
a chance of wearing off.” 

‘ “ You can’t do better,” said my friend, and he advised me to 
consult the shipowner he had previously referred me to. Again I 
called upon this gentleman, and told him my ideas. 

” ‘ “ It’ll be the best way of curing him,” saidhe, “but you must 
contrive that the cure shall be complete. He must go to sea before 
the mast as a boy. He must be shipped as an ordinary seaman. 
Give him such an outfit as an ordinary seaman would take, and 
leave the rest to the captain.” ’ 

” Here the speaker burst into a loud laugh, and called for another 
glass of whisky, meanwhile regarding his lad with strong marks of 
fondness in the mirthful expression of his face. 

” ‘ I hope I don’t bore you, sir,’ said he to me. 

” ‘ Not at all, sir,’ said I; ‘ on the contrary, I am much interested. 
I have made several voyages myself, and otlier people’s experiences 
naturally amuse me.’ 


216 ^ 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


“ ‘ It ended,’ he proceeded, ‘ in my leaving everything to be man- 
aged by this shipowner, whose name shall be Mr. James. He ad- 
vised me not to interfere, not to see the captain, not to put my finger 
into the pie in any way. Ilis notion was that the arrangements 
should come as near as possible to the experience the lad might get 
were he to run away. All that I knew was William would sign 
articles for a bark ’ — here the boy muttered something, and puffed 
at his pipe with a little show of temper — ‘ bound, ’ continued the 
old gentleman with his vast smile, ‘ to Kingston, Jamaica. Mr. 
James would see to his chest and bedding, and my farewell was to 
be taken of him at his own home; in other words, I %yas not to see 
him off. Well,’ said the old fellow, with a side look at his son, ‘ I 
didn’t like it, 1 didn’t like it at all, sir; but it was to be kill or cure, 
so far as the sea went, and that reconciled me. His mother proved 
a terrible difficulty, as I had suspected; but I got the parson of the 
parish to help me, and two friends in whose opinions she had con- 
fidence, and it ended in her agreeing to let him go. And he went. 
Yes, my lad,’ said he, turning to his son, ‘ you went. It was 'with 
a dry eye and a light step. I own it, you bore yourself like a man. 
Your heart was aching, William. I could see that when you turned 
from your mother; but your boyish fancies were strong in you, 
and, on the 'whole, you went away with a light foot, scarcely guess- 
ing, my boy, how, when you had turned the corner, your mother 
and I would sit down and cry to think of the child we might never 
see again. ’ 

“ ‘ Oh, father, it’s over, it’s past now,’ said the lad, with a fiush 
of feeling coming into his face. 

“ The jolly old fellow blew his nose, lighted another cigar, and 
said, ‘ It’s very nearly eight months since he left. I had news that 
his ship had been signaled in the Channel, and I went down this 
morning with the shipowner to the West India Docks, where the 
vessel had arrived, to meet him. And what d’ye think were the 
first words he said to me, almost before I had time to put my hands 
out to him? “ Father,” he says, “ I’ve had enough of it, I’ve had 
enough of it. I’ll never go to sea again!” ’ 

“ If the most exquisite wit had been wrapped up in this exclama- 
tion the old fellow couldn’t have possibly relished it more. He lay 
back in his chair, the better to give vent to several thunderous ex- 
plosions of laughter, amid the intervals of which he would repeat 
in a gurgling voice and with a purple face, ‘ Father, I’ve had 
enough of it, I’ve had enough of it! I’ll never go to sea again!’ 

You found the sea a rougher life than you expected?’ said I 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


217 


to the youth, anxious to bring the stout old man to a more collected 
posture of mind, for everybodj’- in the room, startled by his tremen- 
dous laugh, was engaged in staring at us. 

“ ‘ Rough?’ exclaimed the youth, putting down his pipe, ‘ why, 
I’d rather be a half-starved London cab-horse than a sailor!’ 

“ ‘ AVhat ideas had you of the sea?’ said I, while the stout old 
gentleman leaned forward to listen, 

“ ‘ Well, I thought it was a fine life,’ he answered, ‘but the 
books about it are full of lies. They’re only written for girls to 
read, in my opinion. If the reality were to be written about, peo- 
ple ashore would be so shocked that nobody would buy the works. ' 

“ ‘ You appear to have been disgusted to some purpose,’ said I, 
smiling. ‘ What was the tonnage of the vessel?’ 

“ ‘ Four hundred and forty register,’ he answered, and then kind- 
ling, he said, ‘ As you’ve made some voj’-ages you’ll understand 
more about what I’ve gone through than my father can.’ 

“ The old fellow, with his glass to his lips, winked at me with a 
countenance beaming with high delight. 

“ ‘ In the first place,’ continued the lad, ‘ she was a wooden ship, 
twenty-seven years old, and wanted pumping every four hours, ex- 
cept in heavy weather, Avhen she was pumped all day long. She 
was so deep in the water that if you looked down at her from aloft 
it seemed as if her rails were flush wuth the surface of the sea. She 
had no jacks on her yards, and the job of holding on was something 
awful. She had single topsails, and she was so undermanned that 
a topgallant-sail could scarcely be taken off her without all hands 
being called. Two of the crew' were Swedes, and didn’t speak En- 
glish. One was a Spanish American, and had to be laid in irons 
after w'e were a w'eek out for threatening to knife the mate. The 
fo’k’sle w'as full of rats, and another kind of vermin I had better 
not mention. The rats w^ould come up of a night and eat your toe- 
nails. As to the provisions,’ he exclaimed, with a fire coming into 
his young eyes, ‘ why, if sailors weren’t the most miserable, un- 
cared-for wretches in the world, would people dare to offer them 
such food as was given to us?’ 

“ Here the old gentleman winked at me again. His face could 
not possibly express more delight, and the excess, unable to find an 
outlet in his features, w'orked in his corpulent limbs till it and 
suppressed merriment kept him as agitated as a dish of jelly on a 
cabin table in a seaway. ^ 

“ ‘ The pork,’ said the boy, speaking rapidly, ‘ was covered with 
a thin coating of green, which the cook said it was better not to 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


21 ^ 

scrape away, as it kept the flavor in. The beef had to be sawn, the 
strongest man couldn’t dissect it in the kids with a knife. The 
sugar was little better than molasses, filled wdth dirt and grit, and 
the tea was like hot water into which an apron full of small sticks 
and twigs had been thrown. That was what they gave us to eat 
and drink, and on that fare we were expected to -work for twenty- 
four hours in every day when required.’ 

“ ‘ And he used to grumble,’ said the old man, looking at me as 
if he must die of laughing, ‘ if his mother thought that we could 
sometimes do without pudding if we had fish before the joint and 
dessert to end with!’ 

“ How were you treated at the start?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ Why, as if I had been at sea all my life; as if I had come 
aboard with sea-legs and a water-proof stomach, warranted incapa- 
ble of nausea. I slept in the fo’k’sle. My bunk was well forward, 
and at every pitcli the water would drain in fit to float my blanket 
on to the deck. It was impossible to keep dry. She was so wet a 
ship that the scuttle was nearly always closed. We had nothing 
but a slush-lamp to see by, and you may imagine what a pleasant 
interior it was, with the deck full of water, the gloom so thick you 
had to feel for what you wanted, rats and other delicacies to keep 
you awake in your watch below, and the chaps thickening the 
poisonous atmosphere by blowing out dark clouds of tobacco.’ 

“ He made a wry face, and put down his pipe with a gesture of 
sheer loathing, whereat his jolly old father quivered all over with 
suppressed delight and merriment, and I noticed with amusement 
that he now kept his gaze constantly fastened on me with a view to 
catching my eye in order that he might wink. 

“ ‘ Did they work you pretty hard?’ said I, 

“ ‘ Ay,’ he answered, ‘ shamefully hard. I felt it most at the be- 
gining. They wouldn’t let me be seasick. I mean they wouldn’t 
give me a chance to get over it. We were five days beating out of 
the English Channel, from the Downs to clear of Scilly, and I was 
sick all that time. It blew fresh, and the weather was wet and 
thick, and at times there was a very nasty sea on. In my bunk, 
right forward in the fo’k’sle, I felt the motion fearfully, as you 
may suppose, but no mercy was shown me. I was dragged out, 
and was shoved up on deck through the scuttle and sent aloft with 
one of the men to help him to roll up the fore-topgallant sail, when 
I felt so weak from sickness and from not having tasted food that I 
could hardly stand upright. ’ 

They meant to disgust you,’ said I. ‘ Yet that sort of treat- 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


219 


ment to a green hand comes very close to sheer brutality, and it is 
utterly useless, too — bad for the lad, and no good to the crew.’ 

“ ‘ It was all brutality, sir, from beginning to end,’ talking at his 
father, though addressing me. ‘ The captain had his cue, I sup- 
pose, from the shipowner, and he hazed me in a way that actually 
set the rest of the crew pitying me. He’d tell the mates to find out 
faults in me, or to imagine them, as an excuse to bring me on deck 
when it was my watch below. There was no dirty job that could 
be invented which I wasn’t put to,’ he exclaimed, looking at his 
hands. ‘ It seemed to me sometimes as if I was never to know an 
hour without a slush-pot hanging round my neck. I did more tar- 
ring down than all the rest of them put together. If there was 
nothing for the moment for me to put my hand to I was set to help 
the cook in the galley. ’ 

‘ ‘ Here a mulish look hardened up his face, as though resentment 
were growing too strong for candor, and he fell silent. 

“ ‘ They were determined to make a sailor of him,’ saia I. 

“ ‘ I beg your pardon,’ exclaimed the stoul old man, with a face 
like the nor’-west moon, ‘ they were determined to make a sailor 
of him, sir. I mean to ask the captain and his two mates to dinner. 
What I feel toward those three men, including the boatswain, who 
actually rope’s-ended him, falls very little short of affection. Why, 
sir, any other treatment than what he experienced might have made 
a sailor of him for life — a member of a community whose calling 
he declares to be more wretched than the career of a London cab- 
horse. No, sir. Since the truth had to be learned it was best 
learned at once, sounded to the very bottom, and the worst of it 
turned uppermost right away off. A slower process would have 
ended in disgusting the lad when it was too late, that is to say, he 
would have become a sailor for life, unfit for any other calling, by 
the time he had found out that the romances he read and the ideas 
he had formed had forced him into a dreadful blunder.’ 

“ He said this smiling, but without laughing. When he ceased, 
however, he fell back and sent several shouts ringing through the 
room. There could be no question that the old fellow was over- 
joyed not more by the safe return of his son than by the complete 
success of his curative experiment upon the youth. However, 
after 1 had wished them good-night I could not help thinking that 
a lad who was to be so quickly disgusted with the sea might have 
been cured with much less suffering to himself. Like a good many 
other youths who yearn for ‘the sea, the sea, the open sea,’ he 
needed but a very trifling dose of enlightenment to satisfy him that 


220 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


nature had not intended that his path should he upon the mountain 
■wave. My own experience is that a boy born with a sailor’s heart 
in him will be a sailor, no matter what may prove the sufferings he 
enters upon. Nevertheless, he is a kind and wise father who con- 
trives that his son shall get a preliminary taste of the deep before 
launching him on it for good and all. It is seldom that a boy un- 
derstands his own wishes or is qualified for the calling he believes 
he would like to enter. No vocation is less understood than that 
of the sea, and a lad basing his notions of it upon novels and the 
glimpse of it he obtains by visits to the sea-coasl , ought to have a 
chance of witnessing the realities of it before his romantic fancies 
are humored, and he is sent to a life of bitter servitude, singularly 
barren prospects, and rendered endurable only by the feeling that 
bread must be earned somehow, and that a man as a sailor has few 
if any chances, off the ocean, of keeping himself out of the work- 
house.”* 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A CHAT WITH THE MATE. 

The night was cloudy but pale with moonshine, and a little after 
midnight, the “ Spartan ” having then cast anchor, there lay upon our 
port beam a sooty mass of rock, veiled midway from its base by mo- 

* “ A ship is worse than a jail. There is in a jail better air, better com- 
pany, better conveniency of every kind; and a ship has the additional dis- 
advantage of being in danger. When men come to like a sea-life they are 
not fit to live on land.” “Then,” said I, “it would be cruel in a father to 
breed his son to the sea?” Johnson: “It would be cruel in a father who 
thinks as I do .” — Life of Johnson. It is amusing to follow the nautical judgr 
ments of this sturdy old Tory, this “ mass of genuine manhood,” who knew 
as well as all other British sages what Jack had done for Great Britain. 
Yet, if you consider sea-life as it was in Johnson’s day— the day of “ Roder- 
ick Random ” — you will not think the old moralist very absurd in his profes- 
sions of horror. “ As to the sailor,” he says to Boswell, in another part of 
the life, “ when you look down from the quarter-deck to the space below, 
you see the utmost extremity of human misery: such croivding, such filth, 
such stench I” Boswell: “Yet sailori are happy.” Johnson: “They are 
happy as brutes are happy, with a piece of fresh meat — with the grossest 
sensuality.” But I fear no case for Jack is to be made out of Johnson. Sir 
John Dalrymple said to him that the two noblest animals in the world were 
a Scotch Highlander and an English sailor. Johnson allowed the Highland- 
er, but denied the sailor. He would not even concede Jeick’s proverbially 
generous character. “Sir. he throws away his money without thought and 
without merit. I do not call a tree generous that sheds its fruit at every breeze.” 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


221 


tionless clouds of -wan vapor. There was a sort of faintness of sky 
past it upon the north-western horizon, such a light as you get with 
the breaking of a gloomy November dawn in England; and against 
this uncertain paleness the edge of the island reared black as a 
drawing in India ink, vanishing in the swarming vaporous -thick- 
ness. Where the shadow lay deepest upon those acclivities you 
spied the sparkling of a few.lamps indicating the whereabouts of 
Jamestown; but those scattered beams twinkling in the deep dusk 
like fireflies only served to intensify the extraordinary suggestions 
of desolation, obscurity, and loneliness which you found in that 
silent, sullen rock, burying its head in mist that was touched into 
whiteness in places by the moon behind the clouds, but that else- 
where hung in scowling folds, as though the whole must burst ere 
long into tempest. 

I had seen St. Helena before on all occasions by daylight, and now 
found myself wishing lhat this midnight spectacle had been my 
first impression of it. The mystery of the night encompassed it, 
and imagination furnished to the associations of the famous rock a 
subtlety of interest that would have been lacking, 1 think, in sun- 
shine. The obscured moonlight filling the atmosphere with a spec- 
tral haze; the phantom-like clouds moving slowly up from the 
south-east; the strange dimness of light in the north-west quarter, 
that seemed to owe nothing to the moon; the sense of the immensity 
of the ocean in which this island stood, the inexpressible idea of 
loneliness conveyed by the black, substantial shadow, half veiled in 
mist, combined to produce thoughts which, I dare say, would never 
have entered the head of a man gazing with the sun over him. 

We fired two twelve-pounder guns to announce our arrival, and 
awaken the sleepers on the island; the echoes rolled in thunder upon 
the black, precipitous sides, and you seemed to hear them dying 
away amid the ashen folds that screened the toweling peaks. The 
detonations were a fit music to harmonize one’s mood with; for 
who, beholding the island of St. Helena, could think of aught in 
connection with it but Bonaparte? The fine lines of Byron came 
into my mind as I stood right aft in the loneliest part of the deck, 
surveying a picture that the magic of darkness, touched with the 
hazy sheen of the concealed moon, rendered as ghostly and as 
visionary as the historic deeds of which it is now a mere ironical 
memorial — 

“ That name shall hallow the ignoble shore, 

A talisman to all save him who bore: 

The fleets that sweep before the eastern blast 
Shall hear their sea-boys hail it from the mast; 


222 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


When Victory’s Gallic column shall but rise, 

Like Pompey’s pillar, in a desert skies, 

The rocky isle that holds or held his dust, 

Shall crown the Atlantic like the hero’s bust. 

And mighty nature o’er his obsequies 
Do more than niggard envy still denies.” 

It is a thing as old as the hills, this reference to Bonaparte when 
you talk of St. Helena, and at a distance it is made tedious reading 
by iteration; but once within the sphere of the rock the spell is 
upon you, you can not break from it; turn your eyes where you 
will, the vision of a figure with folded arms, with face of marble, 
with drooped head and piercing eyes lifted into a level gaze, con- 
fronts you; and never is the image so haunting, so passionately 
present to your waking dreams, as when the island upheaves its 
great black mass before you at midnight, when the spirit of the 
vast ocean solitude is present, and when the memory of the won- 
drous conqueror, of the brilliance and splendor of his career, of the 
rage and fire of his battle-fields, is merged into that shadowy, vol- 
canic heap of desolation yonder — an ocean tomb so full of the 
melancholy of the somber unreality which night imparts that it is 
with a kind of relief you turn your eyes from it and direct them 
into the steady wind blowing out of the freedom of a thousand 
leagues of South. 

He arrive(?, says the historian, after a voyage of seventy days 
from Plymouth, and the Count de las Cases, whose eyes were 
rooted upon his features, declares that when the captive viewed his 
prison no change was to be witnessed in his countenance. It is a 
scene that the darkness enables the fancy to reshape. The naval 
historian, James, tells the tale with grim brevity. “ The battle of 
Waterloo was fought, as need scarcely be stated, on the 18th of 
June, and on the 15lh of July, finding he could not evade the 
British cruisers and get to the United States, Bonaparte surrendered 
himself to Captain Frederick Lewis Maitland, of the ‘ Bellerophon,’ 
74, lying in Basque Roads. The latter ship immediately conveyed 
her important charge to Toi-bay, and then to Plymouth, where 
the ‘ Bellerophon ’ arrived on the 26th. On the 7th of August the 
ex-emperor was removed to the 74-gun ship ‘Northumberland,’ 
Captain Charles Bayne Hodgson Ross, bearing the fiag of Rear- 
Admiral Sir George Cockburn, K.C.B, On the 8th the ‘ Northum- 
berland ’ sailed for the island of St. Helena, and on the 1 6th of Oc- 
tober they safely disembarked the ‘ general ’ and his few attendants. 

Here are the bones; but where is the flesh, where the spirit, the 
color, and the life? One never feels more disposed to accept 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


223 


Thackeray’s estimate of the functions of the novelist than when 
reciting a bald historical stroke, and contrasting the slenderness of 
its import side by side with the abounding fullness of the reality it 
points to. For my part, 1 could conceive nothing in history, an- 
cient or modern, more pregnant with intense meaning, more sus- 
ceptible of the highest and most romantic treatment than this slow 
approach of the old stately seventy-four to St. Helena with Napo- 
leon Bonaparte on board. A hundred fancies are begotten; the 
line-of-battle ship herself, with swelling sails and leaning masts, 
passing from day to night, from night to ^day, seventy times over, 
with a wonderful soberness of thought and demeanor among her 
oliicers and men, born of the dominating feeling of having under 
the long, glorious streamer at their masthead the Ravager of Europe, 
the man who had filled England, the most conquering nation the 
world had ever seen, with fear and rage; Napoleon himself, silent, 
impenetrable, with a face hardening its iron over a mind burning 
with surging passions of despair and hope, of memories of blood- 
red conquest, and of perceptions of an issue of deepest humiliation 
and abject personal failure; the arrival of the stately battle-ship off 
Jamestown, the splash of her great anchor, the slow swinging of 
her with clewed-up canvas to the wind, and in one and all, not 
possibly more in Napoleon than in the rest, the realization, poignant 
as death, of the meaning of the imprisonment illustrated by that 
rock at whose sooty blackness, under its envelopment of cloud and 
against the faint background of the midnight sky of the horizon, I 
am gazing, while I think of the things it must perpetuate so long as 
its granite foot shall hold firm upon the bed of old ocean.* 

* “ It would be difficult to describe the astonishment of the inhabitants of this 
insulated little speck upon the arrival of the “ Icaurus ” sloop-of-vvar, with in- 
telligence that Napoleon Bonaparte was a prisoner and within a few days’ sail 
of the island. The surprise of the St. Helenians at this unlooked-for event was 
not unmixed with a considerable share of anxiety as to what might be the con- 
sequences to them of the appropriation of St. Helena as a prison for the ex-em- 
peror.* * In the evening of the 17th October, Napoleon landed and walked to the 
house prepared for his reception, accompanied by Sir George Cockburn, and in 
the presence of perhaps the largest concourse of people that had ever assembled 
at St. peleaa on any former occasion.”— T. H. Brooke, “ History of St. 
Helena.” This writer gives some interesting anecdotes of Bonaparte. Among 
others, the following is striking when the loneliness and smallness of the island 
are thought of: ” It may well be conceived that sensations of no ordinary nature 
were excited at a demand from the maitre cVhdlel of the ex-emperor, a few 
days after his arrival, for four bullocks, in order to make a dish of by-ains." 
The island could not feed its population of four thousand, and fresh beef 
being very precious, one easily understands the effect of such a demand upon 
the people. 


2U 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


But, as we all know, it is not easy to remain sentimental very 
long at sea. My dreams were rudely dispelled by the intrusion of 
one of those bores whom it is the fate of most of us to find ourselves 
locked up with when we sail away upon the ocean in a passenger 
ship. On shore the bore is intolerable enough, but at sea he is 
simply unspeakable. He has you at his mercy, unless, indeed, you 
fly for shelter to your cabin; a refuge not very often endurable in a 
passage that from Finisterre to the Cape of Good Hope gives you a 
thermometer varying between 70 degrees and 100 degrees. Happy 
is the invalid who find^ himself on board a vessel free of bores. 
To be able to sit and think, to be able to lounge and to read, to be 
able to lean over the side and send the fancy deep into the blue and 
yeasty swirl without being teased by processions of people inquiring 
one after another how your cold is, how you slept during the night, 
whether you feel sea-sick, whether you will have a cocktail, how 
your cough is, how your wife is, and whether you are disposed to 
bet upon the run, is a privilege I have on more than one occasion 
sighed for, and which at periods grew so rare as to take, when 
enjoyed, the character of a luxury. My bore broke in upon me in 
the midst of my reflections, whereupon I walked straightway to 
bed, not wholly displeased at being driven perforce from an atmos- 
phere that was fast thickening into drizzle, and that had already 
obscured the massive outline of the island. Shortly afterward the 
anchor was lifted, the old, familiar, regular pounding of the engines 
began, and I fell asleep to the lullaby of those rhythmic notes and 
the steady washing of water sweeping smoothly alongside. 

It was next morning that, while exchanging a few words with 
Mr. Martyr, the chief mate of the “ Spartan,” I spied a long, 
greenish, dark line undulating in true serpentine fashion upon the 
swell, about a quarter of a mile on the starboard bow. “ There’s 
the sea-serpent!” I exclaimed; whereupon four or five passengers 
instantly hurried up to look. Indeed, at sea you need only point 
your finger to the horizon to provoke a hasty rising of all sorts of 
figures and a general rush to the side. Life on shipboard is so 
monotonous to passengers that I have seen a knot of people staring 
for half an hour at a time at part of the sea where somebo*dy had 
said he thought he saw a whale, probably mistaking the shadow of 
the head of a billow for the back of a spouter. These people were 
thankful for an excuse to stare for a long stretch in any direction 
that promised a little more interest than the nothing in particular 
which they were in the habit of fixing their eyes upon, and I 
thought they did not seem grateful when I assured them that, even 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


225 


if a wliale had appeared where they were told to look half an hour 
before, it was hardly likely to remain in the same spot, considering 
the speed at which we were steaming. 

On my pointing out the sea-serpent to Mr. Martyr, he exclaimed, 

“ I wish it were the brute! It is about time that he showed him- 
self to the world at large, and settled the general doubt. I have 
met several men who have seen the snake, and I have beheld the 
creature myself, but it’s like having encountered a ghost. You 
don’t choose to talk about it for fear of ridicule, or, worse still, of 
people thinking you cracked.” 

“You have really seen the sea-serpent?” said I. 

“Ay, really,” he answered, with emphasis; “come with me to 
my cabin and I’ll read to you what I wrote down about the sight 
soon after it had hove into view.” 

I followed him to his berth, and, seating m 3 "self, listened while he 
read the subjoined entry made in a little book which he took down 
from a shelf : 

‘ ‘ The following is a narrative of facts relating to a sea-monster 
seen by myself and others whose names are given below. On April 
22, 1883, the R.M.S. ‘ Spartan ’ being then in the north part of the 
Bay of Bisca}^ I saw approaching the ship at eight a. m., about one 
hundred and fifty yards on starboard bow, its course being at right 
angles to ours, we steering S.W., the head of an animal. The head 
was about the size of a boat, say twenty-five feet long by six feet 
beam. I examined it carefully, but could discern neither eyes nor 
mouth on it. The portion of its body that was above water was of 
a brown color, and the head seemed to be formed of a kind of stiff 
horn. This head the beast held above the surface as though look 
ing at us. When it was within fifty feet it dived, and we passed 
over its wake, which was distinctly visible from the bridge. I 
should take the creature to have been over fifty feet long, possibly 
longer, for I observed a stiff apparently still fin or projection about 
that distance from the head, out of water. I could not suppose that 
this projection was the tail, for it was motionless, like the fin on a 
shark’s back, whereas had it been its tail it must certainly have 
swayed in some way to propel the monster at the rate at which it 
was moving. The creature on diving simpty put his head under 
and disappeared without exhibiting any other part of its body. The 
angle of the projection with the head showed that it dived under 
the ship. From what I saw, and what the others deposed to, I am 
led to believe that it was a serpent or gigantic lizard, and not a fish; 
for what fish swims with its head in the air, and in that posture 
8 


226 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


goes along so fast that the water under its body in front is divided as 
if by a steamer? On our return voyage we heard at Madeira that a 
monster had sunk a small bark much about the time we saw this 
serpent, and in the same latitude, about eighty miles further to the 
westward.” 

As I have never seen the sea-serpent, I claim a right to remain 
incredulous. I reminded Mr. Martyr of the wonderful snake that 
had been sighted many years ago in Table Bay; how a file of 
soldiers had been told oif to go down and shoot the beast; how they 
had fired round after round into him for a whole hour without pro- 
ducing the least appreciable effect upon the “ gigantic lizard,” to 
use the chief officer’s forcible term, and how after the soldiers had 
expended all their ammunition they discovered that the monster at 
which they had been shooting was wholly composed of sea- weed. 
But a man who has really seen the sea-sei-pent is not going very 
easily to surrender his conviction, and 1 found Mr. Martyr bland 
but firm. To be sure, there is a very great deal of water in the sea, 
and in so many leagues of depth and breadth there ought to be, if 
there are not, a large number of wonderful, of beautiful, of horri- 
ble, and of startling things. 

At all events, Mr. Martyr may justly claim that he is but one of 
many who have seen the sea-serpent with the naked eye. It is not 
so very long ago that a captain in the merchant service threatened 
to ‘‘do for” the wreck commissioner, for preventing him, by the 
suspension of his certificate, from, to use the shipmaster’s words, 
‘‘ doing the Almighty’s work in making his wonders known.” One 
of the wonders referred to was the sea-serpent, of which the captain 
possessed a specimen, unhappily only about four and a half feet 
long. In a pamphlet written by him he declared, ' ‘ I sincerely be 
lieve that God, for some wise purpose, has been pleased to reveal 
this greatest wonder of nature to me. By help of good glasses 
(bark ‘ Pauline,’ July b, 1875, latitude 5 degrees south, longitude 
35 degrees west. Cape San Roque, northeast coast of Brazil, dis- 
tance twenty miles, eleven a. m.) saw a monster sea-serpent coiled 
twice round a sperm-whale. The struggles of the whale and serpent 
made the sea like a boiling caldron. The last seen of the whale was 
its tail, and no doubt it was gorged by the serpent. ” The ship- 
master was declared mad, the doctor of the House of Detention 
staling that he was suffering from monomania on the subject of the 
sea-serpent. But I am not so sure of that. Captain Travers, of the 
“Tartar,” informed me that on one occasion, when off the East 
African coast, he witnessed a battle between a whale and some 


A TOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


227 


thrashing creature with huge limbs, with which it dealt the whale 
thunderous blows. These tiails were said to resemble the sails of a 
windmill, and Captain Travers assured me that the sight was one 
of the most majestic and terrible he had ever witnessed in his life. 
Possibly had the doctor of the House of Detention been a retired 
sailor he would have set his monomaniac right on a matter of detail 
only.* 

Be this as it may, the genuine sea serpent, the wondrous lizard of 
the ocean, the creature whom Jack must have caught the notion 
of from JVIilton — 

“ With head up-lift above the wave, and eyes 
That sparkling blazed; his other parts besides 
Prone on the flood, extended long and large. 

Lay floating many a rood; in bulk as huge 
As whom the fables name of monstrous size 

is Still missing, and something bigger than a snake that can be 
coiled away in a portable bottle of spirits must be produced before 
the majority of mankind shall be induced to believe in the existence 
of the most elusive of monsters, f 

The conversation of an intelligent sailor yields a lively pleasure, 
and in Mr. Martyr, chief mate, I found a store of salt experience 
and a large capacity of shrewd observation. The sea-serpent led us 
to other wonders, and our talk fell upon phosphorescent effects at 
sea, things counting, in my humble judgment, among the sublimest 
sights the deep has to offer. I was speaking of a well-known sea- 
story, j: in which the author describes a great space of water as 
white as milk somewhere north of the Mozambique. The author, 
quoting Humboldt, says that there is a part of the sea in the Atlantic 


* Has not Isaiah a distinct reference to the sea-serpent? “ In that day the 
Lord with his sore and great and strong sword shall punish leviathan the 
piercing serpent^ even leviathan that crooked serpent ; and he shall slay the 
dragon that is in the sea." Also Daniel, when he speaks of the four winds 
striving upon the great sea, and then of his beholding a fourth beast, a dread- 
ful and terrible, and so forth? And also St. John: “ And I stood upon the sand 
of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten 
horns,” etc.— clearly not a whale. 

+ The creature has been variously described; one says, It was of a dark 
color about the head covered with white spots;” another, ‘‘a black body 
streaked with white;” a third speaks of its tongue “shaped like a harpoon.” 
Lieutenant Bassett, of the U. S. Navy, has collected much amusing infor- 
mation on this and the like subjects in his “ Legends and Superstitions of 
Sailors,” tRa^). 

t “The Green Hand,” by George Guppies. 


228 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


that is always milky, although very deep, in about 57 degrees of 
west longitude, and on th^i" parallel of the island of Dominica.* The 
pale water, he says, is supposed either to move from the shores of 
Arabia Felix or to arise from sulphurous marine exhalations. The 
novelist finely describes the sight: “ On every side the whole sea 
lay spread out smooth and as white as snow — you could not fancy 
how wide it might stretch away astern on our lee-beam, for not a 
mark of horizon was to be seen — but all the time the wide face of 
it was of a dead, ghastly paleness, washing with a swell like milk 
to our black counter as we forged ahead,” 

Well, as I have said, I was speaking about these phosphoric 
effects to Mr. Martyr, when, picking up his note-book, he ex- 
claimed, “It is not long ago since I saw the white water you are 
talking about, and here is the description of it that I wrote down,” 
So saying, he read out: “ Off Bird Island, South Africa, southwest 
smooth swell, wind south-east, thermometer 73 degrees, tempera- 
ture of sea- water 67 degrees, wet bulb 71 degrees, dry bulb 74 de- 
grees. The temperature is given so that I may compare it with a 
like phenomenon should I be spared to witness such a wonderful 
and awe-inspiring scene again. I had beheld something of the 
same sort before, but nothing to compare with this. The patch of 
white was about ten miles long south-east and north-west. Although 
we were steaming at the rate of thirteen knots you could scarcely 
hear the noise made by the ship in going through the water either 
at the bow or at the stern. The appearance of the sea I can only 
liken to a plain covered with snow, upon which the midday sun is 
shining brilliantly, the whole viewed through a clear green glass. 
But the general hue may be better described as resembling the color 
of the streak of a sulphur match struck in the dark. The sky was 
cloudless, yet it appeared as black as if you had come out of a 
brightly lighted room into a very dark night; though on the hori- 
zon, to the height of about five degrees, the heavens were lighted 
up by the glare of the water. There was sheet lightning, very vivid 


* There is preserved a curious paper on this subject by Captain Newland, 
read in* 1772. He speaks of meeting spots of water as white as milk in the 
passage “ from Mocha to Bombay, Surat* etc.,” and says that on examining a 
bucketful he found an innumerable quantity of animalcules floating about 
alive, ‘‘which enlightened that small body of water to an amazing degree. 
From thence I conclude that the whole mass of water must be filled with 
this small fish-spawn or animalcules, and that this is without all doubt the 
reason of the water’s appearing so white in the night-time.” The patch was 
about 170 miles long. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


229 


and incessant. The picture was one of fearful grandeur, the sea 
glowing with phosphorus and the sky blotted out in blackness.* 

These are matters to kill time with at sea, and than shipboard 
there is no fitter place for discussing them; as who can tell while 
sailing or steaming along what sight to enchant or to terrify the 
next hour may not produce? Marine literature would gain very 
greatly were the masters and mates of the merchant service to take 
the trouble to make, as Mr. Martyr does, notes of the surprises, the 
pictures, and the phenomena which the mighty ocean ofi’ers. As- 
suredly not the least entertaining and instructive portions of Pid- 
dington’s “ Sailor’s Horn Book ” are the extracts he gives from the 
log-books of intelligent mariners. I noted how useful this practice 
must prove to a man while I chatted with Mr. Martyr, for I could 
scarcely start a marine topic but that he could tell me something 
useful and interesting concerning it out of his own experience. We 
were speaking of gales of wind, the maneuvering of steamers in them, 
and of a tempest that the “ Spartan ” encountered during a voyage 
three or four 3^ears ago. 

Captain Wait told me about it, how he had to heave his ship 
to, and to batten down his passengers, and he particularly described 
one great sea which met amidships just abaft the hurricane- 
deck, and coiling over in volumes of green water on both sides, 
filled the quarter-deck; at the same instant the vessel, dripping her 
stern low, dished a huge mass of water over her taffrail. The rush 
made a clean sweep of the deck, and a heavy twelve-pounder gun, 
lashed to ringbolts just before the wheel, was dashed through the 
skylight and fell with a crash upon the deck below, to the horror 
and consternation of the battened-down passengers, who must have 
concluded from such an uproar that the end of the world, rather 
than the end of the ship, had arrived. 

“ The heaviest gale,” said Mr. Martyr, “ that ever I was in, cer- 

* “ French sailors have a curious legend to account for the phosphorescence 
of the sea. Satan, they say, constructed a three-masted ship out of wood cut 
in his domain. This ship smelled of sulphur, and sowed a pest for a hundred 
leagues around. Satan assembled therein many souls of those who died in a 
sinful state, which gave him great joy, for when a fresh lot fell into his cop- 
pers he laughed extravagantly. This laugh irritated St. Elmo, who, finally en- 
raged by these things, and by the piracies of the vessel’s master, pierced the 
hull by a sudden stroke. The devil, busily engaged in counting a fresh acces- 
sion Bto his spoils, was barely able to save himself by swimming. The saint 
made a toothpick of the mast and a handkerchief of the sail. So, when the 
night is dark and the air warm, the ship burns again, the smell of sulphur is 
noticed, and the flames mount to the sky.”— F. S. Bassett. 


230 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


tainly the heaviest gale I have ever encountered north of the equa- 
tor, was in January, 1884. We left Plymouth at 3.40 p. m. The 
barometer was then 29.712 and falling. The wind was north-west, 
in force about six to seven; the 'v^eather cloudy, with passing 
squalls of heavy rain. At five p. m. the sun sunk, heavy crimson, 
and overclouded. He left the atmosphere clear, as the Lizards were 
to be seen thirty-five miles distant. At 10.30 the wind backed to 
south-west. It was then blowing a fresh gale, with high, confused 
sea. We put the ship at half- speed, so as not to force the water 
aboard. The squalls came up very heavy, with much rain, and the 
ship pitched furiously, swinging masses of spray over her fore and 
aft. At two in the morning the gale was still increasing, with rag- 
ing squalls and terrific seas. The engines were eased, and the ship 
put head on. Finding the water tumbling over the stern, we slight- 
ly increased the speed of the ship, but to no purpose, so we had to 
satisfy ourselves by steaming just to keep steerage way upon her. 
We put double lashing over skylight, hatches, and the like, and 
nailed them down to the deck, everything movable on the quarter- 
deck being either secured or carried away. This cabin of mine was 
full of water up to that second drawer there. All this went on till 
about noon of the 27th, when the wind slightlj’' decreased, though 
the squalls were still of hurricane strength. A few hours later it 
was blowing only an ordinary gale of wind. 

“ 1 suppose you found lying head to it the safest posture?” said I. 

“ Yes,” he replied. “ My conviction is that had we brought the 
sea on the quarter, as recommended by some Atlantic captains, we 
should have carried away our rudder and been blown under water. 
Although the ship was very deep and one foot by the head, the only 
method of preserving her was the one the captain adopted. There 
can not be a safer course, I think, in a hurricane than to hold your 
steamer dead on to the seas, keep steerage way on her, and watch 
the vessel, as the biggest waves can always be seen at least two seas 
beyond the one striking the ship.” 

It is well to have these opinions, for there seems to me to be a 
good deal of uncertainty in the minds of shipmasters as to the safest 
posture to place a ship in when a hurricane forces her to heave to. 
There can be no rule, perhaps — such rule, I mean, as applies to 
sailing-vessels of all sizes. For what might be a safe position for a 
steamer four hundred and fifty feet long might prove fatal to a ves- 
sel one hundred feet shorter. Some men are for letting their ships 
take up their own positions; others view with alarm the possibility 
of their craft falling off into the trough. Head on, if the ship can 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


231 


be held to that, is probably the securest posture, and certainly the 
position is one that most diminishes all risk of injury to the rudder. 
Captain Wait, in speaking of the behavior of the “ Spartan ” during 
the terrific gale he encountered in the Bay, told me that, with her 
head dead at it, she climbed the seas as a cat climbs the wall; but 
this, I am afraid, is not a very common experience, to judge of 
what I have seen of vessels, which have so smothered themelves in 
pitching as to leave at moments nothing visible above the foam but 
the pole-compass and the head of the officer of the watch. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE PHANTOM SHIP, 

■Some of us were in the smoking-room, and the conversation went 
to Vanderdecken; I thought I would tell them something about the 
phantom ship, and thereupon spun them the following yarn : 

“ Some months ago,” said I, “ I spent an hour at the house of a 
friend, whom I will speak of as Captain Weevil, and met there a 
friend of his. Captain Bitt, well known as old Paul Bitt, about the 
docks that way. Weevil had shipped his Sunday clothes to do the 
honors of his house, and looked a very smart and hearty old man in 
his velvet waistcoat, high shirt-collar and black cloth frock-coat. 
Bitt is an old fellow, with little eyes sunk deep in his head, as 
though driven below their natural bearings by the gales of wind he 
had peered into, yet they are not so deep as to conceal the good- 
humor and North -country shrewdness that twinkle in them. He 
stands about Weevil’s height, and has the restlessness of the sea- 
man, incessantlj'- slewing himself on his chair to look at Weevil or 
me while speaking, occasionally jumping on to his feet, and pacing 
the little room with the same pendulum step he would employ in 
walking a quarter-deck. There were no ladies to apologize to for 
filling our pipes, and we had not been long seated before the room 
grew dim with tobacco-smoke. 

‘ ‘ Old Weevil was in the midst of an opinion he was delivering 
upon the subject of over-insurance, while Bitt sat jerkily watching 
him with his face full of eager and triumphant argument, when we 
heard a sort of sullen knock on the hall-door, and in a moment or 
two a servant entered, and said, ‘ Please, sir. Captain Spanker. ’ 

“ Weevil started, and I thought looked as if he would tell the 
servant not to show Spanker in, but if that were his wish, it was 


232 


A VOYAGE TO TJIE CAPE. 


too late, for the captain had followed upon the girl's heels, and 
stood in the door- way as she backed out into the passage. I gazed 
with surprise at the immensely tall, long-legged, knock-kneed, long- 
armed, and, I may add, long-haired figure that was in the act of 
advancing to shake hands with Weevil. That he was a nautical 
man I could scarcely for the moment believe, though I am not 
among those who suppose that the sailor is an unmistakable object 
for dress and peculiarities. He had a long, gaunt, yellow face, that 
terminated at the chin in a small bush of wiry, gray hair. His 
eyes were uncommonly large and fine, intensely black, and full of 
luster, and the squareness and character of his forehead suggested 
no small intellectual power. But I do not know that I ever saw a 
more melancholy face. Parson Adams slightly tipsy, and in a con- 
dition of mind bordering upon tearfulness, might convey some idea 
of what Spanker looked like as he thrust forth one immense leg, 
and extended his long right arm, with the sleeve of his coat ridden 
high enough to show a thin and very bony wrist, and approached 
Weevil. 

“ ‘ Well, Spanker,’ exclaimed my friend. ‘ How are you, cap- 
tain? There’s a chair. Put your hat down;’ and here old Weevil 
introduced Bitt and myself. 

“ Spanker saluted us with a melancholy nod, and said in a deep 
and hollow voice, but with a distinctly cultivated accent, ‘ I hope I 
don’t intrude, W'eevil. I could not guess, of course, that you were 
entertaining friends. If this climate had the warmth of the golden 
South, instead of being an atmosphere saturated with damp, every 
precipitated drop of which is rendered poisonous by a hundred nox- 
ious elements, why then people would leave their windows open, 
and a man by being able to see into his friend’s room could judge 
for himself whether he was likely to prove a trespasser or not. ’ 

“ ‘ What will you have. Spanker?’ said Weevil, looking at me 
with a peculiar expression, while I gazed with a real curiosity at the 
new-comer’s giotesque figure, and his extraordinary features, 
whose peculiarities took fresh accentuation from his language and 
articulation. 

“ ‘ A little brandy,’ answered Spanker, in a dismal and depress- 
ing voice that vibrated upon the ear like the burr in a Scotchman’s 
speech. 

“ Bitt looked frightened at him; it was evident that they had not 
met before; and old Weevil seemed suddenly to think a little ex- 
planation necessary. 

“ ‘ Bitt, Spanker’s one of us, I must tell you. Had the old 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


233 


“ Doldrum ” for five years, likewise the “ North Pole,” that was 
burned while lying off Madras; Spanker saving his life by a mira- 
cle.’ 

‘‘‘By a spare boom,’ said Spanker. ‘It was a miracle, too, 
though, and I recollect keeping a shark off for two hours by kick- 
ing it.’ 

‘‘ ‘ I knew the ship,’ said Bitt, with a glance at Spanker’s clothes 
and legs, as if he couldn’t reconcile them with the nautical calling. 

“ ‘ Many more ships, young man, many more ships that I’ve had 
command of, might, you know,’ said Spanker, sepulchrally, fixing 
his glowing eyes upon little Bitt, while he loaded a huge meer 
schaum pipe out of Weevil’s tobacco- jar. ‘ I suppose you are 
aware, sir,’ he continued, ‘ that it was said of old that those who go 
down to the sea in ships see many wonders. ’ 

‘‘ ‘ Yes,’ said Bitt, uneasily, ‘ I have heard the saying. 

‘‘ ‘ Is your friend a nautical man. Weevil?’ asked Spanker, re- 
ferring to Bitt. 

‘‘ ‘ Ay! Pure Stockholm,’ responded Weevil, laughingly. 

‘‘ ‘ And this gentleman?’ continued Spanker, turning his hatchet 
face upon me. 

‘‘ ' They call me a seafarer,’ I responded, struck by the peculiar 
power and brilliancy of his fine eyes. 

” ‘ Hal’ he exclaimed, ‘ and, pray, what wonders, sir,’ address- 
ing Bitt, ‘ was it your fortune to encounter while at sea?’ 

“ ‘ Why,’ answered Bitt, ‘ the only striking wonder I can recall 
is my coming out of it alive and whole after forty year. ’ 

” ‘ Did you ever see a ghost?’ said Spanker, with an impetuositj- 
that made Bitt smart. 

“'What sort of ghost?’ answered Bitt, looking at Weevil as 
though he would have Spanker restrict his conversation to his friend. 

‘‘ ‘ What sort of ghost!’ cried the melancholy man, in a voice of 
mingled pity and scorn, surveying Bitt by beginning at his feet and 
sending his burning eyes traveling up his waistcoat to his hair. 

‘ Why, man, I mean a thing that is visible but impalpable; an ap- 
parition that would arrest your footstep, though you could walk 
through it; an embodiment of passion and sorrow and remorse ;is 
thin as the viewless air, yet as substantial as Weevil there ’ 

‘‘ Here Weevil, pulling out an immense pocket-handkerchief, 
asked me if I didn’t find the room rather warm. I am afraid I was 
too much interested by Spanker to answer him. 

‘‘ ‘ What sort of a ghost!’ continued Spanker, raising his voice 
and sending a flaming glance at Bitt. ‘ Why, man, something as 


234 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


diy as the gray ash in your pipe, but as full of misery as living hu- 
man heart could contain; something you dare not touch with your 
material fingers lest the afilicted essence should crumble away in 
powder, yet so real that this pipe isn’t solider,’ and he brought his 
meerschaum down with a whack upon the table. 

“ I could see my friend Weevil growing unhappy. It was evi- 
dent he knew what was coming. For my part, I w’as hot sorry I 
sat near the door. Little Bitt, nervously nursing his knee, said, with 
his pipe between his teeth, ‘ Singular things, ghosts; but I have no 
acquaintance with them, and don’t want to.’ 

“ ‘ And pray, sir,’ said I, speaking very deferentially, for I pro- 
test the man frightened me, with his long arms and blazing eyes, 

‘ where may you have seen the particular kind of ghost you refer 
to, I mean the powdery and afflicted ghost? Not at sea, surely?’ I 
added, venturing a joke, ‘ for unless the fo’k’sle is very much 
changed, a nautical ghost need be at no pains to keep himself 
damp. ’ 

“ Weevil looked at me with a woe-begone face, as much as to 
say, ‘ Now for it.’ I had manifestly drawn the plug, and the con- 
tents w^ere bound to flow. Captain Spanker put down his pipe, 
emptied his glass, smoothed his hair dowm with his large hands, 
clasped his fingers tightly upon his somewhat shabby waistcoat, 
and, fixing his eyes upon the wall directly over Bitt’s head, began 
as follows : 

“ ‘ I commanded the old “ Doldrum ” in 1851; this was the third 
time that I had had charge of her. We were bound to Bombay 
with a general cargo. She was a lumping sort of craft, with bows 
like an apple, wall-sided and flat-bottomed, but a good ship, stiii as 
a church, and dry as a bloater, though for rolling. Weevil, there 
never was an old cask that could beat her. She had short topgal- 
lant-masts, and a sawed-off -looking stern, wuth her name, “ Dol- 
drum,” in glaring white letters right across it, so that I’ve seen 
them sometimes in a dead calm standing in the shadow under the 
counter like the poet’s epitaph— a name writ in water. We were 
to the westw'ard of the Cape, south of the Trades, and it was sum- 
mer-time in the southern hemisphere. Ever since we had lost the 
Trades, which had proved light winds and promising us a long 
voyage, we had met with variable breezes, chiefly head- winds and 
mighty bothersome. I’ve known the old “Doldrum” do eight 
knots with a gale of wind on the quarrter, but then I kept her 
under a press of canvas that promised to blow the masts over the 
bow. That being the best rate, you may imagine there was not 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


235 


much to be got out of her on a bowline. I left the deck one even- 
ing when a soft air was breathing right over the stern, just enough 
to give the ship steerage way. We'd got stuusails out on both sides, 
and the “ Doldrum ” was quietly rolling in a dreamy sort of way 
over the long swell that came so unwrinkled to the counter you’d 
see the reflection of a star widening out like wire upon the rounded 
heave of it. Young man,’ said Spanker, continuing to speak with 
his eyes fixed on the wall over Bitt’s head, ‘ you’ll have used the 
sea long enough to know what I mean when I say that *twas one 
of those nights you get on the polar verge of the tropics, when a 
sort of hush seems to have been sounded throughout the visible 
creation, when the weak blowing of the draught of aii’^is like the 
breath of old ocean regularly following the rising and falling of its 
breast, when the stars wink drowsil}^ as though the spirit of the 
repose was being felt by them, when the ship like a sentient creat- 
ure nods to the soft cradling movement, while the dark air among 
her rigging, full of sparkles of star-light like constellations of fireflies, 
is made solemn and mysterious by the tender flapping of the canvas 
striking with faint, hollow notes down upon the deck, as though by 
heavens, Bitt, the air was full of phantoms flapping their invisible 
wings. -Eh, man! eh, man! isn’t it so, isn’t it so?’ turning his 
lustrous eyes first upon Weevil, then upon me, .and then fixing a 
look upon little Bitt that appeared to steady that mariner’s attention 
as the uncomfortable anatomy in Coledrige’s poem constrained the 
wedding guest. 

“ The strange, gaunt man continued without waiting for an an- 
swer: ‘ But, when I left the deck it was half past nine. The chief 
mate had charge, there was a hand at the wheel, forward all was 
dark and still. I stood a moment in the companion to watch the 
rising moon. It stole up out of the sea upon our port-quarter, a 
mighty crimson globe, as though. Weevil — and this was the fancy 
Jt begot— the passions of its inhabitants were direrand deadlier even 
than those which animate the people of this earth, and the blood- 
like appearance came of the stainings of a thousand frightful bat- 
tle-fields.’ 

“ ‘ The moon is not inhabited,’ said Bitt, mildly. 

“ Weevil winked at him. Spanker, taking no notice, proceeded: 

‘ But the unholy-looking light of the majestic orb softened into 
rose, and then into gold, even as I watched. Her sun-colored, 
sparkling beam delicately flashed up the sea-line all round, and 
showed an expanse as bare as a desert plain. Mark that, gentle- 
men. Bare as a desert plain,’ he repeated, in his raven note, and 


236 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


sighing deeply. ‘ I went below, entered my cabin, and lay down. I 
fell asleep, but woke suddenly with a start of terror, and heard m3’' 
heart thundering in m}^ ears. I sat up in my cot and stared around 
the cabin. Nothing stirred. I listened, but heard naught save the 
quick hammering of the pulse in my ears. My forehead was be- 
dewed with perspiration, my hands ice-cold and clammy. What 
could this signify? I could feel the ship swayed by the swell, and 
the scuttle in my cabin was filmed over with the sheen of the yel- 
low moonshine. I knew that all must be well with the ship. No 
cry had aroused me. What, then, had caused this sudden leaping 
up out of sleep that should have been soothed by the deep silence? 

“ ‘ I dropped out of my cot and crept up the steps in my socks. 

I stood, as before, in the companion-way, looking around me. The 
moon had now soared to the mizzen-topsail yardarm. The sea all 
that way was clear, but when I cast my eyes to starbaord I saw so 
strange and wonderful a sight that the mere naming of it to 5’^ou 
sets my heart beating violentl}’^ afresh.’ He helped himself to some 
brandy and water while we watched him in silence. ‘ The specta- 
cle, gentlemen, ’ he continued, with a tremble in his deep-throated 
voice, ‘ was a ship built after a pattern rendered familiar to us mod- 
ems by Dutch and other paintings of a century and a half to two 
centuries ago. ’Twas not that there was not light enough, for the 
moon was gushing lier radiance down upon the thing in a perfect 
rain of soft gold; it was a sort of vagueness in her, an unsubstan- 
tiality that was yet well this side of immateriality, which rendered 
her elusive to my gaze. I mean there were points in her, features 
of her construction, that were not determinable by the sight. This 
much I can tell you. She was painted yellow, if yellow were the 
dim, church-yard hue that I marked her hull was coated with. She 
was low in the bows, with a great spring aft, crowned by a kind of 
double poop, one above another, and what I could see of her stern 
was almost pear-shaped, supposing the fruit inverted with the stalk 
sliced off. She had three masts, each with a large protected circu- 
lar top, resembling turrets; sails of the texture of cobwebs hung _ 
from her square yards, and I could see the stars shining through 
them. I could also see figures watching us or moving along her 
rail, faint and glimmering shapes, pallid as any dim luster of phos- 
phorous flashing out from her sickly side as she rolled. There was 
an indescribable smell in the air as of decayed timber. Pah!’ he 
exclaimed, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief, ‘ ’twas the 
sickliest flavor of decay such as you sniff on entering an old vault 
full of coffins moldering to dust. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


237 


“ ‘ I ran to the chief mate, who was leaning against the rail, with 
his arms folded upon his chest and his back to the phantasm. He 
was sleeping heavily, breathing with a stertorous sound. I shook 
him violently, but could not waken him. An indescribable fear 
now possessed me. I strode on trembling knees To the helmsman, 
but found him in a deep sleep too, erect, but supported by his grip 
of the spokes. His chin was upon his bosom, and his breathing 
was like that of one who suffocates. I w'ould have called to the 
men forward, but had no voice. Nay, what I dreaded was that I 
should find them as the mate and the helmsman were. I staggered 
to the rail, and, seizing a belaying-pin for support, stood looking, 
incapable of more. Even as I watched I noticed the ciawling of 
little lambent flames upon the sides of the ship, and upon her masts 
and her yards. They were like the shiuings you see in rotten 
w^ood, and they made the picture of that ship horrible. Whither 
had she come? What ghostly wind had blown her to where she 
was? When I had stepped below the sea was bare as I told you. 
There she lay dead abreast of us within easy hailing distance, and 
some magical power Avithin her enabled her to keep her place, 
neither passing us nor suffering us to drop her by a fathom, though 
the light wind still blew, and we with extended stunsails were 
wailing before it. Presently I noticed a figure remarkable for his 
stature uprear himself on. the taffrail, the boldest point of the hull, 
where his shape stood out against the moonshine on this side and 
the low-lying stars beyond. ’Twas evident to me by his motions 
and gestures that he was hailing me, but I could hear no sound. 
He swung his arms with a movement of entreaty and misery, and 
presently I beheld another figure approach him and hand him what I 
could distinctly perceive to be a speaking trumpet, but still no sound 
reached me. The figure left the taffrail and disappeaied, and in a 
minute or two a little boat, lowered apparent ly from the side of the 
ship that was hidden from me, stole into the moonlight out of the 
shadow of the tall stern. The boat slipped along the water, urged 
by a pair of oars that were soundless as they dipped, and emitted no 
sparkle, nor stirred the least gleam of phosphorus upon the water. 
She came close under where I was standing. There were three 
men in her, and they turned their faces up to me, and the one who 
was in ihe stern-sheets, and who was clearly the shape that had 
sought to speak with me from the taffrail, stood up. His lips 
moved, he waved his hands, but either he was voiceless, or the 
spell that had fallen upon the ship was on me, too, and had turned 
me stone-deaf. Would you have me describe those faces and those 


238 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


men, Captain Bitt? Draw me a nightmare that has wrenched you 
with agony in your slumbers and I will tell you, man, you lie! 
Your brush or your pencil or your pen is false to the horror, and 
waking memory cheats you.’ 

“ He emptied his glass and rose from his chair. We instantly got 
up, loo, not knowing what his next move might be, though I sus- 
pect that Weevil was influenced by the wish that by his prompt 
rising he might make Spanker understand he had had enough of 
him. 

“ ‘ Weevil,’ exclaimed the sad, gaunt man, ‘ I am a trespasser. 
Good-night.’ 

“ ‘ Not at all,’ said Weevil, cheerily; “but, since you will go, 
why, then, good-night.’ 

" Spanker looked hard at me and very forbiddingly at little Bitt. 

“‘Good-night, gentlemen,’ said he, giving us a singular bow, 
and, taking up his hat and stick, he stalked like a tragedy actor out 
of the room and out of the house. 

“ ‘ Poor fellow!’ 1 exclaimed. 

“ ‘ Doocid rum ship that,’ said Captain Bitt, with the old merry 
twinkle coming into his little eyes. ‘ He didn’t tell us her name, 
though.’ 

“ ‘ I know it,’ observed Weevil, with a sigh. 

“ ‘ What?’ asked Bitt. 

“ ‘ The “ Sunstroke,” ’ said Weevil.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 
home! 

Ascension is the most chameleon -like island on the face of the 
waters. It is a slatish haze when you first see it, slowly deepening 
into delicate blue, as though the dye of the liquid sapphire in whicli 
it stands were soaking, as you watched, into its porous conforma- 
tion; and then the green of the central mountain steals out with 
many a volcanic peak round about it, beautiful with tints of amber 
and of rose, of dull emerald, of shadowy brown; until, drawing 
close, the island slips from its prismatic hues into a fixity of sedate 
colors, oppressing the mind with a kind of melancholy, so profound 
is the isolation, so vast the circle of the deep in the midst of which 
it lifts its head, so tomb-like the suggestions of the cinderous soil, 
and the black, desolated sea-board cones, which the eye explores in 
vain for a fragment of weed, for a bare handful of grass. 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


239 


But it is land, a break in the homeward voyage! and sheer dark 
lava as it is, pumice, scoria3, and calcined stones, the gaze greetsit 
gratefully as a brief relief from the eternal junction of heaven and 
water. We brought up abreast of the little scattering of houses 
called Georgetown, and scarce was the anchor down when a couple 
of turtles, like a pair of big, circular mahoganj' tables washing 
about, came shoving along from seaward to have a look at us. 
They were husband and wife apparently, and on excellent terms; 
and we watched them with the complacency of passengers rather 
aweary of beef and mutton, instructed by their amiable presence to 
consider that Ascension was the land of the turtle, and that we 
might now look for something pleasing in the way of steaks for 
breakfast, and something novel and nourishing in the way of soup 
for dinner. 

The long foreshore of the island makes you think of the river 
Tees; you could vow it formed of slag. And, oddly enougli, there 
is a hint of Margate, too, in the stretch of hard, white sand that 
looks as though there must be bathing-machines not far olf. The 
few houses are all of them painted a dark yellow, and make one 
think of quarantine and the west coast of Africa. The island sug- 
gests the original home of the blast furnace. Its appearance might 
be most satisfactorily accounted for by declaring that in by -gone 
times a number of Welsh and North-of-England smelters and blast- 
furnace people settled here and went on smelting down ore, until, 
being overwhelmed by the cinders and ashes of their own creation, 
they took to flight, leaving their chimneys to the mercy of the At- 
lantic gales. One likes to think of the time when all these cones 
were ablaze. There are about forty of these natural smoke-stacks, 
heads or orifices of extinct volcanoes, and if they were burning on 
that Ascension-day, nearly four centuries ago, when Joao de Nova 
Gallego sighted the rock, the old Portuguese navigator and his 
mariners must have beheld what Jonathan would call the “ tallest 
sight ” the ocean ever offered to the wandering seaman. Think of 
that mighty scene of incandescence, no matter when the mountains 
were in flames, the leagues of heaven dyed blood-red, the expanse 
of ocean crimson with the furious outpouring of Are from those 
volcanic heights soaring hundreds of feet! If an empty barrel that 
has held tar will light up the sea for miles, what sort of illumina- 
tion, one asks, would be shed by forty volcanic peaks all belching 
forth at once the scarlet fires of tlie central earth? 

The almost vertical sun poured down its blinding dazzle upon the 
island, and the heat would have intimidated a native of the Soudan. 


240 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


But British curiosity is a passion, and the same quality that dis- 
patched Cook several times round the world, that carried Living- 
stone into the heart of Africa, that impelled Sir Hugh Willoughby 
to the Frozen Ocean, that sends little boys to sea, that has given 
“ Albion, the green -hair’d heroine of the West,” as Tom Warton 
called her, possessions wherever the sun shines, drove most of the 
passengers of the “ Spartan ” ashore to inspect the turtle-ponds, to 
collect marine fungi resembling birds’ nests, to pocket turtles’ eggs 
as soft as putty, and to lose half the skin off their faces. It was 
pure delight to look over the side into the exquisite transparency of 
the blue there. I could see bottom at eight fathoms, and betwixt 
the pale gold of it and the cerulean surface there would subtly 
sneak a score of shapes of sharks, a few hammer-headed, others of 
the true villainous pattern,' with languishing eyes uplifted and mur- 
der writ large upon each shovel nose. One beautiful effect I took 
notice of, such a one as Nathaniel Hawthorne would have loved to 
commit to his note -book; a cloud hid the sun, and the sea between 
our ship and the land turned gray; but tlie loveliness of its own 
hue the ocean kept faithfully beneath this shadow, as the roses of a 
sweet face are still on the cheek though a veil be between them and 
you, and one saw the true tint of the water in the crystal heads of 
the combers — summits of the daintiest opalescent blue shining out 
in glass-like clearness as they arched from the shadow that the 
cloud threw, and stood poised for a breathless instant ere dissolving 
into foam. 

Among the eccentricities of travel place should certainly be found 
for examples of what passengers consider curiosities. It is impos- 
sible to question that a very large proportion of the odd things we 
buy abroad may be had for half the money in the English manu- 
facturing towns from which they are exported. It is, of course, 
disappointing that the silver bangles you bought at Durban hs 
specimens of native fashion and industry should prove pure Brum- 
magem; that your bundle of Zulu assegais should have formed part 
of a recent consignment from Sheffield, and that the elegant Hindoo 
necklace that you purchased after much bargaining from a wander- 
ing IMussulman, newly arrived at Cape Town from Delhi, should 
be easily obtainable at any English jeweler’s shop, where it is 
offered as a genuine bit of British manufacture, for many rupees 
less than you paid the dusky Mohammedan gentleman, who styled 
himself ‘‘ fraish from Del-hee, sare.” It is disappointing, I say; 
but still, though you have been cheated, there is something to show; 
and then, again, there is the coloring and the sentiment that even 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


241 


rubbish will take from distance and travel and the association of 
far-off places. But what is to be thought of the curiosity-monger 
who will bring off an old stone from an island sooner than come 
away empty-handed? A German passenger on board the “ Spar- 
tan,” finding that there were no curiosities to be purchased at 
Ascension, filled his pocket with sand, and. Walking up to me with 
a handful of it, asked if I did not think it “ fonderful?” Another 
person arrived with several pocket-handkerchiefs loaded with shells 
distinctly less pleasing and interesting than the like common objects 
of our English sea-shore, in the quest of which he had ruined a pair 
of boots, which he told me had cost him two pounds at Port Eliza- 
beth. 

“There w'as a lady,” said an old quartermaster, from whom I 
had caught a grin as the German gentleman with his pockets full 
of sand walked away, “ as bought a little dawg at Madeira, the 
tiniest, sweetest, most lovable bit of a hanimal as ever she had set 
eyes on. She kivered it up in a basket lined with wool, took tlie 
oncommonest care of it hup the Bay in cold weather, and got home 
with it safe and sound. When she reached her home she put the 
dawg on the carpet for her friends to admire; but the females 
among ’em instantly gives a screech, a-pulling up their skirts as 
they does so, and jumping on top of the chairs; for the first thing 
that there sweetest and most lovable little dawg did was to make 
for the curtain and run up it, plainly proving that it wasn’t no 
dawg at all, but a rat dressed up to look like a sweet and lovable 
hanimal.” 

We had not been steaming so long but that the island of Ascen- 
sion still lay astern of us broadly defined against the blue heavens, 
once more full of exquisite color, the greenish inland mountain 
throwing out the ambers and purples, the delicate crimsons of the 
tliither peaks and slopes, till in the afternoon glory of the sun the 
whole pile upon the azure surface there resembled a great nugget 
of gold with an emerald set in the midst of it, when happening to 
look forward over the starboard bow I spied the black, wet, gleam- 
ing slope of what was indisputably a whale slipping its leviathan 
form through the swell. Twice it spouted, and the glittering 
shower fell in a rainbow. It headed right athwart our hawse, 
and, distance being very difficult to determine at sea, it appeared to 
me that if it did not mind its eye we should be into it. I scrambled 
on to the burricane-deck, whence I should be able to obtain a fuller 
view than was to be got from the quarter-deck of anything that 
might happen; but whether the whale had heard the thunder of our 


242 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


approach, or whether it had respired as much air as it needed, it 
vanished when we were about four ships’ lengths from it, disap- 
pearing at not more than one point on the port bow. The stem of 
a steamer of a displacement so great as that of the “ Spartan ” 
would, I suppose, at a speed of thirteen miles an hour, cut deep 
into a whale. That she would drive right through the mass I very 
much doubt. The glimpse one caught of the back of the huge 
creature furnished a bright idea of the effect of a collision upon a 
small wooden ship with such a rock-like lump of blubber. 1 have 
seen a few whales in my day, but until I spied the fellow that dis- 
appeared, on our port bow, and compassed its dimensions by the 
surface it exposed, and realized the meaning of its bulk as an object 
to collide with, I confess I had never heard tales of vessels found- 
ering by running into or being run into by whales without very 
grave misgivings. There is Herman Melville’s account of such a 
disaster; it closes his noble work “ The Whaler,” and runs thus: 
“ From the ship’s bows nearly all the seamen now hung inactive, 
hammers and bits of plank, lances and harpoons mechanically re- 
tained in their hands just as they had darted from their various 
employments; all their enchanted eyes intent upon the whale which, 
from side to side strangely vibrating his predestinating head, sent a 
broad band of overspreading semicircular foam before him as he 
rushed. Retribution, swift vengeance, eternal malice were in his 
whole aspect, and spite of all that mortal man could do, the solid 
white buttress of his forehead smote the ship’s starboard bow till 
men and timbers reeled. Some fell flat upon their faces. Like 
dislodged trucks the heads of the harpooners aloft shook on their 
bull-like necks. Through the breach they heard the waters pour 
as mountain torrents down a flume.” The vessel sinks, and all 
hands save the narrator perish. 

I find everything very possible in this description. But we are 
now in the age of steam and iron, and ’ what George Stephenson 
said of the locomotive and the cow is to the full as applicable to the 
steamer and the whale. An example was related to me. A large 
vessel was steaming at eight, knots about fifteen miles distant from 
Maaora Point, when some one shouted out that there was a whale 
under the bows. There was a slight shock, and the ‘way of the 
vessel was deadened. Everybody rushed to the side to see what 
was the matter, and there appeared a portion of the body of a huge 
whale that, as the vessel pressed forward, turned completely over, 
exposing the belly. The rent and dying creature in its agony 
raised such a foaming sea all about it with its thrashing tail that 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


243 


the sight was like the base of a water-spout. Had the propeller 
been struck by the convulsed mass the ship in all probability would 
have been disabled. Some years ago a whale drifted ashore on the 
west coast of Scotland, It was over a hundred feet long, and when 
examined the spine was found broken — snapped short across, as it 
was supposed, by a blow from the stem of an Atlantic steamer. 

These are such things as people will talk about during a long 
voyage, and, in our days of amateur seafaring, conversation on 
marine subjects in a mixed company — among whom there will 
usually be found one man who has been shipwrecked, and at least 
two men who on several occasions have very narrowly come off 
with their lives — it not . likely to languish from lack of personal 
experiences. Yet, though it is very agreeable at noon to learn that 
the steamer has traversed three hundred and twenty nautical miles 
in twenty-four hours, it must be admitted that much of the romance 
of the sea is cut in twain, like the whale in the story by the swift, 
knife-like stem of the flying steamer, and sent floundering and 
dying to the bottom. ’Tis like traveling on a railway; a picture 
of beauty flashes upon the sight and is gone ere it is possible to in- 
terpret the deep, rich poetry of it. The alternations are so rapid 
you forget to heed them. Every day there are a hundred leagues 
between where you are and where you were. Yet passengers do 
not somehow appear to realize this. It is burning hot — call it 115 
degrees in the cabins — there is lightning all round, and in the after- 
noon a heavy storm of hail and rain breaks over the ship. Both 
old and young ladies — and, for the matter of that, both old and 
young gentlemen, too — exclaim, “Ah! this will cool the air; the 
temperature will be endurable after this,” forgetting that in twenty- 
four hours they will have rushed from one clime into another, and 
that the storm that may have tempered the air of a small area in 
latitude 42 degrees will not more affect the air of latitude 37 de- 
grees, where the ship will have arrived in twenty-four hours, than 
a house on fire in Whitechapel will influence the indications of a 
thermometer hung up in Kensington Gardens. 

It was different in the old ambling days. A man had time to 
peer about him then. It was seldom, indeed, that a ship ran a 
whale down— -though when such a thing happened there was scarce 
limit to the leisure found for studying the character of the damage. 
I remember once being-becalmed in the South Pacific. The ebony 
swell rolled like oil to the ship’s side, swaying her so steadily and 
gently that the movement of the canvas on high was as soft as the 
beating of a sea-bird’s wings. Tlie moon, of a rusty red, was 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


2U 


rising out of a thickness that lay like a fold of smoke low down 
upon the horizon. She had no power as yet to touch the sea with 
light, and the ocean went black to the distorted luminary. It was 
then that you heard a kind of sighing all about the ship, deep 
respirations as of giants letting forth their breath in grief. It was 
no more than the rising of many whales to blow, creatures unseen 
in the blackness, and by their invisibility rendering that scene of 
darkness and of calm a wonder and a sort of fear, too, by the sigh- 
ing sounds, as though the deep itself were dreaming in its sleep, 
and whispering as it dreamed. 

Such an experience as this must be impossible on board a steamer; 
the passage of the vessel would have raised a strong breeze of 
wind, and the magic of the breathlesss night and its mysterious 
mammoth voices been extinguished by the roaring notes of parted 
waters, and by the throb and tremble of the engines. 

Yet this voyage to South Africa and home, certainly to Table 
Bay and back, is so full of ocean sweetness and the exhilaration of 
the deep, so sunlighted, so glad with the kaleidoscopic glories of the 
fervid parallels, so radiantly blue with miles which seem measure- 
less of tranquil surface, that the most passionate lover of the sea 
could find nothing to complain of in pictures missed or in revela 
tions too swift for enjoyment. From Ascension to far north of 
Madeira our passage was like yachting on the smooth breast of the 
English Channel on a summer day. Noon after noon would arrive, 
showing us the steady average run of from three hundred and ten 
to three hundred and twenty miles, and every morning when we 
came on deck the same spectacle of serenity lay before us, the sea 
of an inexpressible blue, a gentle swell lifting in silk-like folds 
from the north-west, a soft breeze blowing warm over the bows out 
of the light azure in the north and east, followed by evenings mag^ 
nificent with sunset, and nights full of stars floating in places in 
their myriads like sheets of silver, with a steadfast rising of glitter- 
ing luminaries and constellations dear to the Northern eye. It is, in- 
deed, of all voyages, the one to furnish the best delights the sea has 
to offer in climate, in calmness of waters, in refreshment of wind, 
in tempered purity of sunshine. There is only the Bay of Biscay 
to excite misgiving, and let ’the nervous and the seasick reassure 
themselves by reflecting that in these times of thrashing engines the 
giant fabric that nothing short of a hurricane can arrrest is sent seeth- 
ing from Finisterre to Ushant in a handful of hours. 

Speaking for myself, I protest I was not a little grateful for this 
consideration when we were fairly in the Bay, for a gale of wind 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


245 


had been reserved for us, and we got the full weight of it before 
Finisterre was abeam. 

We had indeed noticed symptoms of heavy weather ofi St. Vin- 
cent by the increasing strength of the swell running from the west- 
ward; though whether this most uncomfortable agitation was to be 
accepted as the precursor of wind or as the lingerings of a disturb- 
ance happily passed we could not imagine, until, as I have said, the 
storm-fiend sprung upon us in the bay. Everybody who has been 
to sea in a steamer knows what to be rolled about is like, and there 
were moments when our tumblefication was fit to put a nightmare 
into the slumber of an angel. “ It’s always like this at dinner- 
time!” yelled the head-steward to me, as half the furniture of the 
dinner-tables tumbled away in an awful clattering, made more 
hideous yet by masses of spoons and forks launching themselves in 
volleys into an immense basket lined with tin; ” it’s all the man at 
the wheel’s doing. He’s relieved at six o’clock, and the chap who 
follows him lets her fall off or come to, and here’s the conse- 
quence!” and he cast a distracted eye upon the saloon fioor, where 
six or eight waiters were crawling about on their hands and feet, 
picking up fruit, salt-cellars, cruet-stands, playful napkin-rings, 
fragments of tumblers, and so forth. 

But 1 am afraid it was not Ihe man at the wheel. It was the sea. 
Nobody slept that night for having to hold on in bed. I lay in my 
bunk watching a long succession of contests of speed between a 
portmanteau and a chair. In the space outside, a table broke away, 
danced into a married couple’s berth, sweeping through the curtain 
to the consternation of the inmates, pirouetted out again, waltzed 
into the adjacent cabin, also occupied by a married couple, tumbled 
headlong over the coaming, rolled to where I had put my shoes to 
be cleaned in the morning, got mixed up with them somehow, and 
literally bolted with them into the saloon. Never in all the days of 
table-turning did any table exhibit such absurd spirits or behave 
with more impropriety. Some of the passengers fell out of their 
fore-and-aft bunks so repeatedly that they gave up the job of hold- 
ing on, and put their mattresses down on the deck. But this did 
not help them very much, for the heel of the ship was often so great 
that they would roll from one side of the cabin to the other like 
casks. Eating became a fine art. By the utmost skill only could a 
mouthful be had, for the instant the waiter put a plate of food be- 
fore you it would either discharge its contents over the side of the 
fiddle into the middle of the table, or airily skim abreast of the 
neighbor on your left, who had no time to catch it before it ha 1 


246 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


mingled its contents with those of the plate firmly grasped by the 
neighbor on your right. The seas came along to the ship in pro- 
cessions of cliffs. We were very light, and from the rail of the 
quarter-deck we showed a side of, I dare say, twenty-three feet; 
and yet when the steamer rolled lo windward the oncoming surge 
looked to rear its foaming head to high above the hurricane-deck, 
and it was with a positive emotion of wonder that you marked the 
sweep of the ship up the thunderous liquid acclivity; and not until 
she hung a moment on a level keel upon the summit of the great 
billow could you realize that she had hoisted her vast bulk clear of 
the threat of the arching, glittering green crest which you were 
just now staring up at. 

In the very thick of this weather a steamer bound south passed us. 
It blew so hard that a man could not look to windward for a few mo- 
ments without turning his back. The vessel was probably of one 
thousand five hundred tons’ register; she had no bulwarks, and the 
seas tumbled over and off her in such prodigious heaps of foam that, 
but for her funnel and spars, you would have taken her to be the 
head of a rock rather than a buoyant ship. Buoyant do I call her? 
I don’t think buoyancy ever tumbled about as she did. Had her 
hatchway been open when she rolled her deck to us you would have 
seen her keelson, or whatever takes the place of that fitting in the 
ocean tramp; and when she heeled over to windward you watched 
to see her keel rise clear of the smother. It gave one an idea of the 
power and volume of that sea to made the steamer’s disappearance 
in the trough, and the wild delivery of the whole fabric of her to 
the flying thickness overhead when the billow hove her up as 
though Daddy Neptune’s trident had speared her bilge, and the 
weedy old god was forking her on high that the spirit of the gale 
might inspect the sort of ship Jack is nowadays sent to flght the 
elements in. She vanished in a haze of spume, and I turned my 
eyes from the direction in which she had disappeared, wishing from 
the bottom of my soul that the men who send such structures as 
she, so loaded, to sea were compelled by law to sail in them. 

On a dark and melancholy March morning we rolled over the 
leaden seas of the Channel, and, under a smoke-like sky, from 
which every trace of the sun seemed to have been swept away by 
the rain, into Plymouth Sound, and dropped anchqr in the quiet 
depths past the breakwater. All was shrouded in the drizzle that 
the strength of the wind was blowing in horizontal lines. Scarce a 
glimpse be had of Plymouth. The Hoe and Mount Edgecumbe 
and Drake’s Island were mere shadows looming sullen in a slatish 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


247 


shadow amid the steamy thickness. There was a perpetual flashing 
of foam over the breakwater, with long, saliva-like drainings of 
froth cascading down the slope into the sheltered surface, and the 
contrast of this line of throbbing and leaping snow with the misty 
green ocean beyond, weltering to the livid gloom that lay upon the 
horizon, gave the outlook there a most formidable aspect of stormi- 
ness. The “Minotaur,” a huge ship of war lifting an amazing 
complication of spars and yards on high, rode with a ponderous 
stillness close to us. Some life was given to the somber, oppressive 
picture by the towing out of a ship that, as she swept clear of the 
breakwater, bowed the seas heavilj^, flinging the foam from her 
stem half way to the tug, and reeling wet and gray upon the tum- 
ble with clattering ropes and a dreary shrieking of wind in her 
rigging From time to time the roar of heavy pieces discharged 
from a couple of torpedo boats, or vessels of that pattern, swung 
with a crash to the ear upon the wind; but the most of us on board 
the ‘ ‘ Spartan ’ ’ seemed capable of heeding nothing but the cold and 
the gloom. I watched a Port Elizabeth man looking around him 
for the sun over a shawl that swathed his face to half-way up his 
nose, and from mouth to mouth there went all sorts of scornful re- 
marks concerning the English climate, the particular attractions it 
offered to people with delicate chests, its usefulness as a stimulant 
for rheumatic agony, and its general elegance as a home embellish- 
ment wherewith to delight the eyes of people who had not viewed 
their native land for years. 

When the tender arrived to convey mails and passengers ashore 
there was a rush for her, but it was reported to her master that a 
child on board during the voyage had suffered from chicken-pox, 
whereupon he said that he would have to go and fetch the medical 
oflicer of health, and off he started, leaving us practically quaran- 
tined. It was unquestionably the duty of the doctor to have come 
off in the first instance. Why he did not choose to do so I can not 
imagine; but his inaction resulted in a large number of impatient 
people, who had been three weeks at sea, and who were clamorous- 
ly eager to put their foot upon solid earth, losing a convenient train 
and suffering a detention of about two hours. But that was not 
all. The steamer herself was delayed at a time of day and in 
weather when an hour or two might make all the difference be- 
tween her reaching Southampton early in the evening or washing 
about the Channel all night. There might also be a day’s expenses 
added to the cost of the passage to the ship in the shape of meals 
for the passengers, coal, crew’s wages, and so forth. And all be- 


248 


A VOYAGE TO TifE CAPE. 


cause an infant had had a mild attack of chicken-pox, from which 
it was now recovered, and because the medical olhcer of health did 
not choose to come off at once in the tender and so facilitate the 
disembarkation of the passengers and expedite the sailing of the 
ship to her final port. This is a matter I would earnestly direct 
attention to. Let the authorities quarantine a ship for a mild attack 
of chicken-pox if they will, but let them, in the name of mercy, of 
wet weather, and seasickness, provide that their medical officer 
shall immediately attend a vessel on her arrival, and spare people 
the uncomfortable suspense in which they must remain plunged 
until the master of the tender puts back to hunt for him and bring 
him off. 

In Plymouth Sound, with the anchor of the “ Spartan ” down, I 
would fain stop, but the ocean had not had enough of me yet, and 
there still remains for me to briefly describe one of the ugliest and 
most uncomfortable nights I ever passed in my life, ashore or 
afloat. There was a storm of wind blowing from the southward, 
with a touch of west in it, and as heavy a sea as I can remember in 
the Channel was running. We steamed out of the sound into the 
full weight of it, and when we brought the billows upon our star- 
board quarter the drunken behavior of our ship made oue wonder 
at the comparative sobriety of her conduct in the higher seas yet of 
the Bay of Biscay. The master of a vessel that had been wrecked, 
a passenger from South Africa, came rushing up to me where I 
was taking shelter in the ladies’ saloon. “ By thunder,” he cried, 
“she was pooped deliciously then! man, she was pooped nobly! 
took it right over the quarter most handsomely!” and, to be sure, I 
had only to put my head out to see that he spoke the truth. No 
harm resulted from the flooding, nor was it a thing that could have 
been averted. The engines had been eased down, the throbbing 
below was as labored and slow as the action of a failing pulse. 
The rain and haze stood in a wall of gray thickness all around us. 
’Twas impossible to see ten ships’-lengths, and already the even- 
ing was drawing down, putting a shadow into the air that promised 
an impenetrable blackness when the twilight had fairly died. 

If .ever I had lacked appreciation of the duties and responsibilities 
of the shipmaster I should have learned how to sympathize now. 
For the two previous nights Captain Wait had scarcely left the 
deck, and here was he again confronted with at least twelve hours 
of midnight gloom blackening probably the most dangerous bit of 
navigation in the world, with a gale of wind blowing filled with 
squalls that drove into the ship at times wdtli cyclonic force, and a 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


249 


sea running of exceptional weight and savageuess, I asked the 
ofli('er if there was any prospect of our making Southampton Water 
that night. “No prospect whatever,” he replied. In short, we 
were booked to pass the whole night in the Channel, hove to. I 
could not but admire and applaud the seaman-like care and the de- 
termined patience of the captain— such care and such patience as I 
had weeks before recognized in him when he was groping his way 
along the perilous shore between Mossel Bay and the Cape of Good 
Hope in a fog as thick, if not as dark, as ever shrouded the streets 
of London. Bnt I need not disguise the uneasiness I felt. I was 
sitting in the smoking-room at about eight o’clock in the evening; 
the ship was making heavy weather of it, indeed; her engines were 
faintly stirring, barely yielding command to the helm. Outside it 
was as black as a coal-mine. A quartermaster entered to pnll down 
the blinds, that the sheen on the smoking-room windows which 
looked forward might not bother the man stationed on the fore- 
castle. I asked him if there was anything in sight. 

“Yes, sir,” he replied, in a subdued voice, “ there are the lights 
of several steamers aliead and around us.” 

I stepped out, and, looking seaward through the wet gale, could 
just discern the red, feeble twinkling of a steamer’s port light rising 
upon the send of an invisible billow. It is a common saying that 
medical men make the worst patients, and it was, perhaps, reason- 
able that I, who had written and thought much of collision, tliould 
feel anxieties keener than the apprehensions experienced by my 
fellow-passengers. It is not that a man has the least doubt of the 
faithful vigilance of the commander and his officers stationed upon 
the bridge or forward; it is that he fears the absence of that quality 
in those in charge of the vessels about him. The brightest lookout, 
the nimblest maneuvering will not save your steamer from collision 
with a ship where the lookout is bad and the navigation reckless. 
Hour after hour this went on, the gale sweeping through the masts 
of the ship with the ring and fury, and with something of the ic}" 
edge, too, of what used to be called a “ Cape-Horner;” the steamer 
plunging and rolling furiously upon the boiling summits, and in 
the midnight hollows of a genuinely angry and conflicting Channel 
sea; the engines sometimes slowly moving, sometimes coming to a 
dead stand; the pouring sounds of wind and washing waters often 
startlingly broken in upon by the yelling of the steam-horn, that 
sounded like a human note full of baffled yearning uttered by the 
laboring fabric out of her own sentience. 

I turned in very late, and when I woke next morning it was 


250 


A VOYAGE TO THE CAPE. 


about seven o’clock, I asked the bedroom steward where we were, 
and his consoling answer was, “ Nobody knows, sir!” There was 
nothing to be seen through the port-hole but the rinsings of water 
flung green against the glass; so I went on deck, and there, sure 
enough, all around us lay the same gray thickness that had 
smothered us up on the previous afternoon, with the wind still 
blowing a gale and the surges rolling as they had rolled all night. 
But while we were at breakfast, the engines being motionless and 
the ship reeling to sickening angles at moments, a beam of sunshine 
shot through the sky-light, A few minutes after the engine-room 
bell rung out its clear notes and the propeller went ahead at full 
speed, 

“Just tumbled across a pilot, and he’s on the bridge!” sung out 
the cheer}’^ voice of the second officer, 

” Ha! then it’s all right now,” exclaimed a corpulent passenger, 
who discovered several marks on his face and hands of having 
tumbled about a great deal during the night, ” Waiter, another 
chop, if you please.” 

Yes, it was all right now, with the clouds breaking into blue 
rifts and the sunshine flashing through the windy openings, and 
the pilot at the right hand of the anxious, sleepless captain who had 
held to his bitter post throughout the night. 

“TJasn’t there a talk of abolishing compulsory pilotage?” ex- 
claimed a gentleman to me. 

I nodded. 

” Humph!” he growled, frowning as he stared landward, where 
the shadow of the Isle of Wight was now visible. ” I wish to 
thunder that those inland folks who make the nautical life their 
Parliamentary hobby would go to sea and And out the truth for 
themselves before venturing to imperil life and crush down the 
shipmaster with a burden of obligations heavier than he or any 
mortal could bear.” 

The morning grew fairer, the sunlight steady, the gale fined 
down into a shrill and piping wind, the eastern extremity of the 
Isle of Wight stood out clear and bold. In a short time our keel 
was in the comparatively smooth water of Spithead, and b}'- the 
time the town clocks of Southampton were striking eleven the 
” Spartan” was safely moored alongside the quay, and her passen- 
gers had bidden one another a cordial farewell. 


THE END. 


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Ink, 


The wa8h-i)asin, the bath-tub. even the greasy kitchen sink, will 

be as clean as a new i)in if you use SAPOLIO. One cake will prove all 
we say. Be a clever little housekeeper an<i tiy it. 


brightly. 

;lei 


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6 The Admiral’s Ward. By Mrs. 

Alexander 20 

6 Portia. By “ The Duchess ” — 20 

7 Pile No. 113. By Emile Gabo- 

riau 20 

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Wood 20 

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By “Ouida” 20 

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Charles Dickens 20 

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Mathers JO 

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18 Shandon Bells. By William 

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of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

20 Within an Inch of His Life. By 

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21 Sunrise : A Story of These Times. 

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27 Vanity Fair. By William M. 

28 Ivanhoe. B}’^ Sir Walter ^ott, 

Bart 20 

29 Beauty’s Daughters. By “The 

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30 Faith and Unfaith. By “ The 

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31 Middlemarch. By George Eliot. 

First half 20 

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34 Daniel Deronda. By Georgo 

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35 Lady Audley’s Secret. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

36 Adam Bede. By George Eliot .. 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles 

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Dickens. Second half 20 

38 The Widow Lerouge. By Emile 

Gaboriau 20 

39 In Silk Attire. By William 

Black 20 

40 The Last Days of Pompeii. By 

Bulwer Lytton 20 

41 Oliver Twist. Charles Dickens. 20 

42 Romola. By George Eliot 20 

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44 i"\I;;cieod of Dare. By William 

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46 Very Hard Cash. By Charles 

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47 Altiora Peto. By Laurence Oli- 

phant 20 

48 Thicker Than Water. By James 

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49 That Beautiful Wretch. By 

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50 The Strange Adventures of a 

Phaeton. By William Black. 20 

51 Dora Thorne. By the author of 

“ Her Mother’s Sin ” 20 

52 The New Magdalen. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

63 The Stor y of Ida. By Francesca 10 
54 A Broken Wedding-Ring. By 
the author of “ Dora Thome ” 20 
65 The Three Guardsmen. By 
Alexander Dumas 20 

56 Phantom Fortune. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

57 Shir ley. By Charlotte BrontA. . 20 

58 By the Gate of the Sea. By D. 

Christie Murray 10 

59 Vice Versa. By F. Anstey 20 

60 TlieI..astof the Mohicans. By 

J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

61 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. 

Rowson 10 

62 The Executor. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander 20 

63 The Spy. By J. I’enimore Coop- 

er 20 

6-i A Maiden Fair. By Charles 
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65 Back to the Old Home. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 10 

66 The Romance of a Poor Young 

Man. By Octave Feuillet 10 


67 Lorna Doone. By R. D. Black- 

more. 1st and 2d half, each 20 

68 A Queen Amongst Women. Plv 

the author of “ Dora Thorne 10 

69 Madolin s Lover. By the author 

of “ Dora, 'rhorne ” 20 

70 AVhite Wings; A Yachting Ro- 

mance. By William Black. . . 10 
T1 A Struggle for- Fame. By Mrs. 

J. H. Riddell 20 

72 Old Myddelton’s Money. By 

Alary Cecil Hay 20 

73 Redeemed by Love. By the 

author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 

74 Auror-a Flo 5 'd. By' Aliss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

75 Twenty Years After. By Alex- 

ander Dumas 20 

76 Wife in Name Only. By'^ the 

author of “ Dora Thorne ”.. . 20 

77 A Tale of Two Cities. By' Chas. 

Dickens 20 

78 Aladcap Violet. By Wm. Black 20 

79 Wedded and Parted. By the 

author of “ Dora Thoime ”... 10 

( 3 ) 


NO. PRZCIC. 

80 June. By Airs. Forrester. . ...20 

81 A Daughter of Heth. By Wm. 

Black 20 

82 Sealed Lips. By Fortun6 Du 

Boisgobey 20 

83 A Sti ange Story. By Sir E. Bul- 

wer Lytton 20 

84 Hard Times. By Charles Dick- 

ens 10 

85 A Sea Queen. By W. Clark 

Russell 20 

86 Belinda. By Rhoda Broughton 20 

87 Dick Sand ; or, A Captain at 

Fifteen. By Jules Verne 20 

88 The Privateersman. By' Cap- 

tain Marryat 20 

89 The Red Eric. By R. AI. Ballan- 

tyne 10 

90 Ernest Alaltravers. By Sir E. 

Bulwer Lytton 20 

91 Barnaby Rudge. By' Charles 

Dickens. 1st and 2d half, each 20 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice. By the 

author of ” Dora Thorne ”... 10 

93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiogra- 

phy 20 

94 Little Dorrit. By Charles Dick- 

ens. First half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. By Charles Dick- 

ens. Second half 20 

95 The Fire Brigade. By R. AI. 

Ballanty'ue 10 

96 Erling the Bold. By' R. AI. Bal- 

lantyne 10 

97 All in a Garden Fair. By AValter 

Besant 20 

98 A Woman-Hater. By Charles 

Reade 20 

99 Barbara's History. By Amelia 

B. Edwards 20 

100 20.000 Leagues Under the Seas. 

By Jules Verne 20 

101 Second Thoughts. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20, 

102 The Aloonstone. By AVilkie 

Collins 20 

103 Rose Fleming. By Dora Russel! 10 

104 The Coi al Pin. By F. Du Bois- 


105 A Noble Wife. By John Satin- 

20 

106 Bleak House. By Charies Dick- 

ens. First half 20 

106 Bleak House. By Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half 20 


107 Dombey and Son. By Charles 

Dickens. Isfand 2d half , each 26 

108 The Cricket on the Hearth, and 

Doctor Alarigold. By Charles 
Dickens 10 

109 Little Loo. By W. Clark Rut- 

sell 20 

110 Under the Red Flag. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 10 

111 The Little School-master Alark. 

By' J. H. Shorthouse 10 

1 12 The Waters of Alarah. By John 

HUI 3^ 


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113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. By M. 

G. Wightwiok 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. By Mrs. 

C J. Eiloart 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. By T. 

Adolphus Trollope.., 10 

116 Moths. By“Ouida” 20 

117 A Tale of the Shore and Ocean. 

By W. H. G. Kingston 20 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford. and Eric 

Dering. By “ The Duchess ” . 10 

119 Monica, and A Rose DistilPd. 

By “ The Duchess ” 10 

120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 

Rugby. By Thomas Hughes 20 

121 Maid of Athens. By Justin Mc- 

Carthy 20 

122 lone Stew’art. By Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton 20 

123 Sweet is True Love. By “ The 

Duchess” 10 

124 Three Feathers. By William 

Black 20 

125 The Monarch of Mincing Lane. 

By William Black 20 

126 Kilmeny. By William Black. . . 20 

127 Adrian Bright. By Mrs. Caddy 20 

128 Afternoon, and Otiier Sketches. 

By ” Ouida” 10 

129 Rossmoyne. By ” The Duch- 

6SS 10 

130 The Last of the Barons. Bulwer 

Lytton. 1st and 2d half, each 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. By Charles 

Dickens. 1st and 2d half, each 20 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock. By 

Charles Dickens 10 

133 Peter the Whaler. By W. H. G. 

Kingston 10 

134 The Witching Hour, and Other 

Stories. By ‘'The Duchess ’ 10 
!35 A Great Heiress. ByR. E. Fran- 
cillon 10 


136 “ That Last Rehearsal,” and 

Other Stories. " The Duchess” 10 


137 Uncle Jack. By Walter Besant 10 

138 Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 

By William Black 20 

139 The Romantic Adventures of a 

Milkmaid. By Thomas Hardy 10 

140 A Glorious Fortune. By Walter 

Besant 10 

141 She Loved Him! By Annie 

Thomas 10 

142 Jenifer. By Annie Thomas 20 

148 One False. Both Fair. J. B. 

Harwood 20 

144 Promises of Marriage. By 
Emile Gaboriau ; 10 


145 “ Storm-Beaten God and The 

Man. By Robert Buchanan,. 20 

146 Love Finds the Way, and Other 

Stories. By Besant and Rice. 10 

147 Rachel Ray. By Anthony Trol- 


lope 20 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms. 

By the author of ” Dora 
Thorne” 10 

0 ) 


NO. PRICE. 

149 The Captain’s Daughter. From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

150 For Hit! I self Alone. By T. W. 

Speight 10 

151 The Ducie Diamonds. By C. 

Blatherwick 10 

152 The Uncommercial Traveler. 

By Charles Dickens 20 

153 The Golden Calf. By MissM. E. 

Braddon 20 

154 Annan Water. By Robert Bu- 

chanan 20 

155 Lady Muriel’s Secret. Bj* Jean 

Middlemas 20 

156 ‘‘ For a Dream's Sake.” By Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

157 Milly’s Hero. By F. W. Robin- 

son 20 

158 The Starling. By Norman Mac- 

leod, D.D 10 

159 A Moment of Madness, and 

Other Stories. By Florence 
Marry at 10 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. By Sarah 

Tytler. 10 

161 The Lady of Lyons. Fotinded 

on the Play of that title by 
Lord Lytton 10 

162 Eugene Aram. By Sir E. Bul- 

wer Lytton 20 

163 Winifred Power. By Joyce Dar 

rell 20 

164 Leila ; or. The Siege of Grenada. 

By Sir E. Bulwer Lytton 10 

165 The History of Henry Esmond. 

By William Makepeace.Thack- 
eray 20 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites. By 

“ The Duchess” .'. 10 

167 Heart and Science. By Wilkie 

Collins > 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Charles 

Dickens and Wilkie Collins. . . 10 

169 The Haunted Man. By Charles 

Dickens 10 

170 A Great Treason. By Mary 

Hoppus ,30 

171 Fortune’s Wheel, and Other 

Stories. By “The Duchess” lO 

172 “ Golden Girls.” By Alan Muir 20 

173 The Foreigners. By Kieanrr C. 

Price .' 20 

174 Under a Ban. By Mrs. L<alge. . 20 

175 Love’s Random Shot, and Other 

Stories. Bv Wilkie Collins. . . 10 

176 An April Diiy. By Philippa P. 

Jephson lO 

177 Salem Chapel. By Mrs.Oliphant 20 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 

of a Life in the Highlands. By 
Queen Victoria 10 

179 Little Make-Believe. By B. L. 

Far jeon 10 

180 Round the Galley Fire. By W. 

Clark Russell 10 

181 The New Abelard. By Robert 

Buchanan 10 

182 The Millionaire. A Novel 20 


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18S Old Contrairy, and Other Sto- 
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181 Tliirlby Hall. By W. E. Norris. 20 

185 Dita. By Lady Margaret Ma- 

jeiulie 10 

186 The Canon’s Ward. By James 

Payn 20 

187 The Midnight Sun. By Fredrika 

Bremer 10 

188 Idonea. By Anne Beale 20 

189 Valerie’s Fate. Mrs. Alexander 10 

190 Romance of a Black Veil. By 

the author of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

191 Harry Lorrequer. By Charles 


Lever 20 

192 At the World’s Mercy. By F. 

Warden 10 

193 The Rosary Folk. By G. Man- 

ville Penn 10 

194 “SoNear, and Yet So Farl” By 

Alison 10 

195 “ Tlie Way of the World.” By 

David Christie Murray 20 

196 Hidden Perils. By Mary Cecil 

Hay 10 

197 For Her Dear Sake. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

198 A Husband’s Story ! 10 

199 The Fisher Village. By Anne 

Beale 10 

200 An Old Man’s Love. By An- 

thony Trollope 10 

201 The Monastery. By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 

202 The Abbot. By Sir Walter Scott 20 

203 John Bull and His Island. By 

Max O’Rell 10 

204 Vixen. By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

205 The Mitiister’s Wife. By Mi’S. 

Oliphant 30 

206 The Picture, and Jack of All 

Trades. By Cliarles Reade. . 10 

207 Pretty Miss Neville. By B. M. 

Croker 20 

208 The Ghost of Charlotte Cray, 

and Other Stories. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 10 

209 Jolm Holdsworth, Chief Mate. 

B}’’ W. Ciark Russell 10 

210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 

rent Events. By Chas. Reade 10 

211 The Octoroon. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 10 


212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 

g'oon. By Charles Lever. 
First and Second half, each.. 20 

213 A Terrible Temptation. Chas. 

Reade 20 

214 Put Yourself in His Place. By 

Charles Reade 20 

215 Not Like Other Girls. B.y Rosa 

Noucliette Carey 20 

216 Foul Play. By diaries Keade. 20 

217 'i'he Man She Cared For. By 

F. W. Robinson 20 

218 Agnes Sorel. By G. P. R. James 20 

219 Lady Clare; or. The Master of 

the Forges. By Georges Oh net 10 


NO. PRICE. 

220 Which Loved Him Best? By 


the author of ” Dora Thorne ” 10 

221 Coinin’ Thro’ the Rye. By 

Helen B. Mathers 20 

222 The Sun-Maid. By Miss Grant 20 

223 A Sailor’s Sweetheart. By W. 

Clark Rus.seil 20 

224 The Arundel Motto. Mary Cecil 

Hay 20 

225 The Giant’s Robe. By F. Aiistey 20 

226 Fi iendship. Bj' “ Ouida ” 20 

227 Nancy. By Rhoda Broughton. 20 

228 Princess Napraxine. By ” Oui- 

da ” .... . .20 

229 Maid, Wife, or Widow? By 

Mrs. Alexander 10 

230 Dorothy Forster. By Walter 

231 Griffith Gaunt. Charles Reade 20 

232 Love and Money; or, A Perilous 

Secret. By Charles Reade. . . lO 

233 “ I Say No ;” or, the Love-Letter 

Answered. Wilkie Collins. ... 20 

234 Barbara; or, Splendid Misery. 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

235 ” It is Never Too Late to 

Mend.” By Charles Reade. . . 20 

236 AVhich Shall It Be? Mrs. Alex- 

ander 20 

237 Repented at Leisure. By the 

author of “ Dora Thorne”. . . 20 

238 Pascarel. By ” Ouida ” 20 

239 Signa. By “ Onida ” 20 

240 Called Back. B 3 'Hugh Conway 10 

241 The Baby’s Grandmother. By 

L. B. Walford 10 

242 The Two Orphans. ByD’Ennery 10 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” First 

half. Bj’ Charles Lever 20 

243 Tom Burke of “ Ours.” Second 

half. By Charles Lever. ,... 20 

244 A Great Mistake. By the author 

of “ Cherry ” 20 

245 Miss Tomm.y. and In a House- 

Boat. By Miss Mulock 10 

246 A Fatal Dower. Bj' the author 

of “ His Wedded Wife ” 10 

247 The Armourer’s Prentices. By 

Charlotte M. Yonge 10 

248 The House on the Marsh. F. 

Warden 10 


249 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter.” 

By author of “ DoraTli»rne ” 10 

250 Sunshine and Roses; or, Di- 

ana’s Discipline. By the au- 
thor of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

251 The Daughter of the Stars, and 

Other Tales. By Hugh Con- 
way, author of “Called Back” 10 

252 A Sinless Secret. By “ Rita”.. 10 
2.YI Tlie Amazon By Carl Vosmaer 10 
254 The Wife’s Secret, and Fair but 

False. By the author of 


“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

255 The Mystery. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood '. 20 

256 Mr. Smith: A Part of His Life. 

By L. B. Walford 20 


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iJ57 Be}' ond Recall. By Adeline Ser- 
geant 10 

258 Cou.sins. By L. B. Walford — 20 

259 The Bride of Monte-Cristo. (A 
‘ Sequel to “ The Count of 

Aloute-Cristo.” By Alexander 
Dumas •. 10 

260 Proper Pride. By B. M. Croker 10 

261 A Fair Maid. By F. W. Robinson 20 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Parti By Alexander Duiriag 20 
262 Tiie Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part II. By Alexander Dumas 20 
803 An Ishmaelite. By Miss M. E. 


Braddon 20 

264 Pi6douche, A French Detective. 

By Fortun6 Du Boisgobey — 10 

265 Judith Shakespeare : Her Love 

Affairs and Other Adventures. 

By William Black 20 

266 The Water-Babies. AF^iryTale 

for a Land-Baby. By the Rev. 

Charles Kingsley 10 

S67 Laurel Vane; or. The Girls’ 
Conspiracy. By Mrs. Alex. 
McVeigh Miller 20 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or. The 

Miser's Treasure. By Mrs. 
Alex. McVeigh Miller 20 

269 Lancaster’s Choice. By Mrs. 

Alex. McVeigh 3111161* 20 

270 The Wandering Jew. Part I. 

By Eugene Sue 20 

270 The Wandering Jew. Part II. 

By Eugene Sue 20 

271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part I. 

By Eugene Sue 20 

271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part II. 

By Eugene Sue 20 

272 The Little Savage. By Captain 

31arryat 10 

273 Love and Mirage ; or, The Wait- 

ing on an Island. By M. 
Betham Edwards 10 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 

Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 
and Letters 10 

275 The 'J'hree Brides. Charlotte M. 

Yonge 10 

276 Under the Lilies and Roses. By 

Florence Marryat (Mrs. Fran- 
•cis Lean) 10 


277 The Surgeon’s Daughters. By 

Ml’S. Henr}' Wood. A Man of 
His 3Vord. By W. E. Norris. 10 

278 For Life and Love. By Alison . 10 

279 Little Goldie. Mrs. Sumner Hay- 


den 20 

280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 
ciety. By Mrs. Forrester 10 

881 The Squire’s Legacy. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

882 Donal Grant. By George Mac- 

Donald.. 20 

883 The Sin of a Lifetime. By the 

author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 10 

884 Doris. By ” The Diidit-ss ” .. 10 

( 5 ^ 


NO. PRICK. 

265 The Gambler’s Wife 20 

286 Deldee; or, The Iron Hand. By 

F. Warden 20 

287 At War With Herself. By the 

author of ” Dora Thorne ”.. . 10 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight. By 

the author of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 
28* John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. By a “ Brutal 


Saxon ” 10 

290 Nora’s Love Test. By Mary Cecil 

Hay 20 

291 Love’s AVarfare. By the author 

of “ Dora Thorne” 10 

292 A Golden Heart. By the author 

of ‘‘Dora Thorne” 10 

293 The Shadow of a Sin. By the 

author of ‘‘ Dora Thorne ”.. . lu 

294 Hilda. By the author of ‘‘ Dora 

Thorne”. 10 

295 A Woman’s AA’ar. By the author 

of ‘‘ Dora Tliorne ” 10 

296 A Rose in Thorns. By the au- 

thor of ‘‘ Dora Thorne ” 10 

297 Her Marriage Vow ; or, Hilary’s 

Folly. Ch^arlotte M. Braeine 10 

298 Mitchelhurst Place. By Marga- 

ret *Veley 10 

299 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bride 

from the Sea. By the author 
of ” Dora Thorne ” 10 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love. By the author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 10 

301 Dark Days. By Hugh Conway. 10 

302 The Blatchford Bequest. By 

Hugh Conway 10 

303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 

ter than Death. By the author 
of ‘‘ Dora Thorne ” 10 

304 In Cupid’s Net. By the author 

of ” Dora Thorne ” 10 

305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

doline’s Dream. By the au- 
thor of ‘‘.Dora Thorne ” 10 

306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for a 

Day. By the author of ‘‘ Dora 
Thorne ” 10 

307 Two Kisses, and Like No Other 

Love. By the author of ‘ ‘ Dora 
Thorne’’ 10 

308 Beyond Pardon 20 

309 The Pathfinder. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

310 The Prairie. J .Fenimore Cooper 2 J 

311 Two Years Before the Mast. By 

R. H. Dana, Jr 20 

312 A Week in Killarney; or. Her 

AV e e k ’ s A^iusement. By 
” The Duchess ” 10 

313 The Lover’s Creed. By Mrs. 

Cashel Hoey 20 

314 Peril. By Jessie Fothergill ^ 

315 The Mistletoe Bough. Edited 

by Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

316 Sworn to Silence ; or. Aline Rod- 

ney’s Secret. By Mrs. Alex. 
McVeigh Miller 20 


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KO. PRICK. 

817 By Mead and Stream. Charles 

Gibbon 20 

818 The Pioneers; or, The Sources 

of the Susquehanna. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

319 Face to Face : A Fact in Seven 

Fables. By R. E. Francillon. 10 

320 A Bit of Human Nature. By 

David Christie Murray 10 

321 The Prodigals : And Their In- 

heritance. By Mrs. Oliphant 10 

322 A Woman’s Love-Story 10 

823 A Willful Maid 20 

824 In Luck at Last. By Walter 

Besant 10 

325 The Portent. By George Mac- 

donald 10 

326 Phantastes. A Faerie Romance 

for Men and Women. By 
George Macdonald 10 

327 Raymond’s Atonement. (From 

the German of E. W^erner.) 

By Christina Tyrrell 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. By 

F. Du Boisgobey. First half. 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. By 

F. Du Boisgobey. Second half 20 

329 The Polish Jew. ByErckmaun- 


Chatrian 10 

330 May Blossom ; or. Between Two 

Loves. By Margaret Lee 20 

331 Gerald. B.y Eleanor C. Price.. 20 

332 Judith Wynne. A Novel 20 

333 Frank Fairlegh ; or. Scenes 

from the Life of a Private 
Pupil. By Frank E. Smedley 20 

334 A Marriage of Convenience. By 

Harriett .lay 10 

335 The White Witch. A Novel 20 

336 Philistia. By Cecil Power ..... 20 

337 Memoirs and Resolutions of 

Adam Graeme of Mossgraj’, 
Including Some Chronicles of 
the Borough of Fendie. By 
Mrs. Oliphant 20 

338 The Family Difficulty. By Sarah 

Doudne.y 10 

339 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid. 

By Mrs. Alexander 10 

340 Under Which King? By Comp- 

ton Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or. The Little 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

By Laura Jean Lihbey 20 

342 The Baby, and One New Year’s 

Eve. B}" “The Duchess” 10 

343 The Talk of the Town. By 


344 “The Wearing of the Green.” 

Bv Basil 20 

3^15 Madam. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

846 Tumbledown Farm. By Alan 

Muir 10 

147 As Avon Flows. By Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

W8 From Post to Finish. A Racing 

Romance. By Hawley Smart SO 


NO. PRICK. 

349 The Two Admirals. A Tale of 

the Sea. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

350 Diana of the Crossways. By 

George Meredith 10 

351 The House on the Moor. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

352 At Any Cost. By Edward Gar- 

rett 10 

353 The Black Dwarf, and A Leg- 

end of Montrose. By Sir Wal- 
ter Scott 20 

354 The Lottery of Life. A Story 

of New York Twenty Years 
Ago. By John Brougham... 20 

355 That Terrible Man. By W. E. 

Norris. The Princess Dago- 
mar of Poland. By Heinrich 


Felbermann 10 

356 A Good Hater. By Frederick 

Boyle 20 

357 John. A Love Story. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

358 Within the Clasp. By J. Ber- 

wick Harwood 20 

359 The Water-Witch. By J. Feui- 

more Cooper 20 

360 Ropes of Sand. By R. E. Fran- 

cillon 20 

361 The Red Rover. A Tale of the 

Sea. By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

362 The Bride of Lammermoor. 

By Sir Walter Scott 20 

363 The Surgeon’s Daughter. By 

Sir Walter Scott 10 

364 Castle Dangerous. By Sir Wal- 

ter Scott 10 

365 George Christy; or. The Fort- 

unes of a Minstrel. By Tony 
Pastor 20 

366 The Mysterious Hunter; or. 

The Man of Death. By Capt. 

L. C. Carleton 20 


367 Tie and Trick. By Hawley Smart 20 

368 The Southern Star ; or. The Dia- 

mond Land. By Jules Verne 20 

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376 The Crime of Christmas-Day. 

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470 Evelyn’s Folly. By Charlotte 

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471 Thrown on the World. By Char- 

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477 Affinities. A Romance of To- 

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478 Diavola: or. Nobody’s Daughter 

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480 Married in Haste. Edited by 

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481 The House that Jack Built. By 

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482 A Vagrant AVife. By F. AA’^arden 20 

483 Betwixt My' Love and Me. By 

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484 All hough He AVas a Lo’-d, and 

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485 Tinted A^apours. By J. Maclaren 


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487 Put to the Test. EditedTiy Miss 

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488 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter. 

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489 Rupert Godwin. By Miss M. E. 

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493 Colonel Enderby’s AVife. By 

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495 Mount Royal. By Miss M. E. 

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496 Only a AVoman. Edited by Miss 

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497 The Lady’s Mile. By Miss M. 

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498 Only a Clod. By Miss M. E. 

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499 The Cloven Foot. By Miss M. 

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575 The Fingrer of Fate. By Cap- 

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576 Her Martyrdom. By Cliarlotte 

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577 In Peril and Privation. By 

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578 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

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578 Mathias Sandorf. By Jides 

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698 Corinna. By “ Rita.” 10 631 

699 Lancelot W’ard, M. P. By 

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639 Othmar. By Ottida ” 20 

640 Nnttie’s Father. By Charlotte 

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641 The Rabbi’s Spell. By Stuart 

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642 Britta. By George Temple 10 

643 The Sketch-book of Geoffrey 

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644 A Girton Girl. By Mrs. Annie 

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645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains. By 

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646 The Master of the Mine. By 

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647 Goblin Gold. By May Crom- 

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648 The Angel of the Bells. By F. 

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649 Cradle and Spade. By William 

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651 “Self or Bearer” By Walter 

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654 “Us.” An Old-fashioned Stor 3 '. 

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655 The Open Door, and The Por- 

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6.56 The Golden Flood. By R. E. 

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657 Christmas Angel. By B. L. 

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658 The History of a Week. By 

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659 The Waif of the “ Cynthia.” By 

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660 The Scottish Chiefs. By Miss 

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660 The Scottish Chiefs. B}' Miss 

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661 Raiultow Gold. By David Chris- 

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662 The Mystery of Allan Grale. 

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663 Handy Andy. By Samuel 

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664 RoryO’More. By Samtiel Lover 20 

665 The Dove in tlie Eagle’s Nest. 

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666 My Yoting Alcides. By Char- 

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667 The Golden Lion of Granpere. 

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670 The Rose and the Ring. Bj' W. 

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672 In Maremma. By “ Ouida.” 

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672 In Maremma By “ Ouida.” 

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673 Story of a Sin. By Helen B. 

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674 First Person Singular. By 

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676 A Child’s History of England. 

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677 Griselda. B> the author of “ A 

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678 Dorothy’s Venture. By Marj' 

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679 Where Two Ways Meet. By 

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680 Fast and Loose. By Arthur 

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681 A Singer’s Story. By' May Laf- 

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682 In the Middle Watch. By W. 

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683 The Bachelor Vicar of New- 

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684 T.ast Days at Apswich 10 

685 England Under Gladstone. 1880 

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686 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and 

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687 A Country Gentleman. By Mi's. 

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688 A Man of Honor. By John 

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689 The Heir Presumptive. By 

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690 Far From the Madding Crowd. 

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691 Valentine Strange. By David 

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692 The Mikado, and Other Comic 

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693 Felix Holt, the Radical. By- 

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694 Jolin Maidment. By- Julian 

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695 Hearts: Queen. Knave, and 

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696 Thaddeus of Warsaw. By Miss 

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697 The Pretty Jailer. By F. Du 

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714 ’Twixt Love and Duty. By 

'I’ighc- H tpkins 20 

715 I Have Lived and Loved. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

716 Vii-for and Vanquished. By 

Mary Cecil Hay 20 

717 Beau Tancrede; or. The Mar- 

riage Verdict. By .Alexander 
Dumas 20 

718 Unfairly Won. By Mrs. Power 

O’DonoiJ'hue 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. By 

Lord Byron 10 

720 Paul Clifford. By SirE. Bulwer 

Lytton, Bart 20 

721 Dolores. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

722 What's Mine s Mine. By George 

Macdonnld ..20 

723 Mauleverer’s Millions. By T. 

Wemyss Reid 20 

724 My Lord and My Lady. By 

Mrs Forrester 20 

725 My Ten Years’ Imprisonment. 

By Silvio Pellico 10 

726 My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester.. . 20 | 
i'Zi Fair Women. By IMrs. Forrester 20 
728 Janet s Repentance. By George 

Eliot^. 

T29 Mignon. Mrs. Forrester 


NO. PRICK. 

730 The Autobiography of Benja- 

min Franklin 10 

731 The Bayou Bride. By Mrs. Mary 

E. Bryan 20 

732 From Olympus to Hades. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

733 Lady Branksmere. By “The 

Duche.ss” 20 

734 Viva. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

735 Until the Day Breaks. By 

Emily Spender 20 

736 Roy and Viola. Mrs. Forrester 20 

737 Aunt Rachel. By David Christie 

Murray 10 

738 In the Golden Days. By Edna 

Lyall 20 

739 The Caged Lion. By Cliaiiotte 

M. Youge 20 

740 Rhona. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

741 The Heiress of Hilldrop; or. 

The Romance of a Young 
Girl. By Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 

742 Love and Life. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W'^. Clark 

Russell. 1st half 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship, By W, Clark 

Russell. 2d half 20 


744 Diana Carew; or. For a Wom- 

an’s Sake. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

745 For Another’s Sin ; or, A Strug- 

gle for Love. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

746 Cavalry Life; or. Sketches and 

Stories in llarracks and Out. 

By J. S. W’iiiter 20 

747 Our Sensation Novel. Edited 

by Justin H. McCarthy, M.P., 10 

748 Hurrish : A Study. By the 

H'>n. Emily Lawless 20 

749 Lord Vanecotirt’s Daughter. By 

Mabel Colli ns 20 

750 Am Old Sto^ of My Farming 

Days. Bv Ji itz Reuter, First 
half 20 

750 An Old Story of My Farming 

Days, By Fritz Reuter. Second 
half 20 

751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 

gators. Jules Verne. 1st half 20 

751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 

gators. Jules Verne. 2d half 20 

752 Jackanapes, and Other Stories. 

By Juliana Horatia Ewing. . 10 

753 King Solomon’s Mines. By H. 


Rider Haggard .20 

754 How to he Happy Though Mar- 

ried, By a Graduate in the 
University of Matrimony 20 

755 Margery Daw, A Novel 20 

756 The Strange Adventuresof Cap- 

tain Dangerous. A Narrative 
in Pl.iin English. Attempted 
by George Augustus Sala — 20 

757 Love’s Martyr. By Laurence 

Alma Tadema 10 



THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.-Pocket Edition, 


NO. PRICE. 

758 “ Good-bye, Sweetheart !” By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

759 In Shallow Waters. By Annie 

Armitt 20 

760 Aurelian ; or, Rome in the Third 

Century. By William Ware.. 20 

761 Will Weatherhelm. By Wm. 

H. G. Kingston 20 

762 Impressions of Theophrastus 

Such. By George Eliot 10 

763 The Midshipman, Marmaduke 

Merry. By Wm. H. G. Kingston 20 

764 The Evil Genius. By \V ilkie 

Collins '. 20 

765 Not Wisely, But Too Well. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

766 No. XIII ; or, the Story of the 

Lost Vestal. By Emma Mar- 
shall 10 

767 Joan. By Rhoda Broughton... 20 

768 Red as a Rose is She. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

769 Cometh Up as a Flower. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

770 The Castle of Otranto. By 

Horace Walpole 10 

771 A Mental Struggle. By “The 

Duchess” 20 

772 Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood 

Trader. By R. M. Ballantyne 20 

773 The Mark of Cain. By Andrew 

Lang 10 

774 The Life and Travels of Mungo 

Park 10 

775 The Three Clerks. By Anthony 

Trollope 20 

776 P^re Goriot. By H. De Balzac. 20 

777 The Voyages and Travels of Sir 

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778 Society’s Verdict. BytheAuthor 

of “ My Marriage ” 20 

779 Doom! An Atlantic Episode. 

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780 Rare Pale Margaret. By author 

of “ What’s His Offence?” 20 

781 The Secret Dispatch By James 

Grant 10 

782 The Closed Door. By F. Du 

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782 The Closed Door. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half.. 20 

783 Chantry House. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

784 The Two Miss Flemings. By the 

author of “ What’s His 
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785 The Haunted Chamber. By 

“ The Duchess ” 10 

786 Ethel Mildmay’s Follies. By 

author of “ E’etite’s Romance” 20 


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787 Court Royal. A Story of Cross 

Currents. By S. Baring-Gould 20 

788 The Absentee. An Irish Story. 

By Maria Edgeworth 20 

789 Through the Looking-Glass, 

and What Alice Found There. 

By Lewis Carroll. With fifty 
illustrations by John Teuniel. 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or. The 

White and Black Ribaumont. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or. The 

White and Black Ribaumont. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 

791 The Mayor of Casterbridge. By 


Thomas Hardy 20 

792 Set in Diamonds. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 20 

793 Vivian Grey. Bj’ the Right Hon. 

Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. First half 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Right Hon. 

Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. Second half .. . 20 

794 Beaton’s Bargain. By Mrs. Al- 

exander 20 

795 Sam’s Sweetheart. By Helen 

B. Mathers 20 

796 In a Grass Country. A Story of 

Love and Spoi t. By Mrs. H. 
Lovett Cameron 20 

797 Look Before You Leap. By 

Mrs. Alexander 20 

798 The Fashion of this World. B}' 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

799 My Lady Green Sleeves. By 

Helen B. Mathers 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or, Scenes 

from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 


800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 

from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte Bl. Yonge. 2d half 20 

801 She Stoops to Conquer, and 

The Good-Natured Man. By 
Oliver Goldsmith 10 

802 A Stern Chase. Mrs.Cashel-Hoey 20 

803 Major Frank. By A. L. G. Bos- 

boom-Toussaint 20 

804 Living or Dead. By Hugh Con- 

way, author of “ Called Back ” 20 

805 The EYeres. By Mrs. Alexan- 

der. First half 20 

805 The Freres. By Mrs. Alexan- 
der. Second half 20 

807 If Love be Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20 

808 King Arthur. Not a Love Story 

By Miss Mulock 20 

810 The Secret of Her Life. By Ed- 
ward Jenkins 20 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Pocket Edition. 

LATEST ISSUES: 


NO. PRICK. 

669 Pole on Whist ^ 

834 A Ballroom Repentance. By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

835 Vivian the Beauty. By Mrs. 

Annie H.dwards 20 

836 A Point of Honor. By Mrs An- 

nie Edwards 20 

837 A Vagabond Heroine. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 10 

838 Ought We to Visit Her? By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

839 Leah : A Woman of Fashion. 

By Mrs. Annie Edwai’ds 20 

840 One Thing Needful; or. The 

Penalty of Fate. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

841 Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 

842 A Blue-Stocking. By Mrs An- 

nie Edwards 10 

843 Archie Lovell. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

844 Susan Fielding. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

845 Philip Earnscliflfe; or, The 

Morals of May Fair. By Mrs. 
Annie Edwards 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 1st half... 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 2d half 20 

847 Bad to Beat. By Hawley Smart 10 

848 My Friend Jim. ByW.E. Norris 10 

849 A Wicked Girl. By Mary Cecil 

Hay 20 

850 A Playwright’s Daughter. By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 

851 The Cry of Blood. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. First half 20 

851 The Cry of Blood. By F. Du 

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852 Under Five Lakes ; or. The 

Cruise of the “Destroyer.” 

By M. Quad 20 

853 A True Magdalen. By Char- 

lotte M Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

854 A Woman’s Error. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne. 20 

855 The Dynamiter. Robert Louis 

Stevenson and Fanny Van de 
Grifr, Stevenson 20 

856 New Arabian Nights. By Rob- 

ert Louis Stevenson 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. Mary E. Bryan. 
First half 20 


NO. PRICK. 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. Mary E. Bryan. 
Second half 20 

858 Old I\Ia’m’selle’s Secret. By E. 

Marlitt 20 

859 Ottilie: An Eighteenth Century 

Idyl. By Vernon Lee. The 
Prince of the 100 Soups. Ed- 
ited by Vernon Lee 20 

860 Her Lord and Master. By Flor- 

ence Marry at 20 

861 My Sister the Actress. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

862 Ugly Barrington. By “ 'I’he 

Duchess.” Betty’s Visions. 

By Rhoda Broughton 10 

863 “ My Own Child.” By Florence 

Marryat 20 

864 “ No Intentions.”- By Florence 

Marryat 20 

865 Written in Fire. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

866 Miss Harrington’s Husband. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

867 The Girls of Feversham. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

869 The Poison of Asps. By Flor- 


JLTJ.C4>I I J XV/ 

870 Out of His Reckoning. By 

Florence Marryat 10 

871 A Bachelor s Blunder. By W. 

E. Norris 20 

874 A House Party. By “Ouida” 10 

875 Lady Valworth’s Diamonds. By 

“The Duchess” 20 

876 Mignon’s Secret. John Strange 

Winter 10 

878 Little Tu’penny. By S. Baring- 

Gould — 10 

879 The Touchstone of Peril. By 

R. E. Forrest 20 

880 The Son of His Father. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

881 Mohawks. By Miss M. E. Brad- 

don 20 

883 Once Again. By Mrs. For- 

rester 20 

884 A Voyage to the Cape. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

886 Paston Carew, Millionaire and 
Miser. Mrs. E. Lynn Linton. 

First half 20 

886 Paston Carew, Millionaire and 
Miser. Mrs. E. Lynn Linton, 
Second half 20 


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NEW TABERNACLE SERMONS 

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How to Make Good Bread, Biscuit, Omelets, Jellies, Jams, Pan- 
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Miss Corson is the best American writer on cooking. All of her recipes 
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